Seeds

by Chris Mandeville

  “Please, Reid,” Brandt said. “Let me try. There’s been enough death, too much of it at my own hands. I don’t want to be responsible for any more.”

  What hung in the air unspoken was that only Brandt knew the location of the seeds. Reid could amass an army, but without Brandt’s cooperation, there was nowhere to take the fight.

  Reid looked at Brandt across the dying embers. “Do you really think your plan will work?”

  “I think it’s a long shot, but I’m going to try.”

  One Hundred Thirty-Four

  Grapevine, California

  As they walked to the motel, Pascal wanted Justine to keep talking. The more information he gathered, the more prepared he’d be for contingencies. But she didn’t say another word, and he thought it better to let it lie. Besides, he already had a lot of new information to mull over. Justine as the kidnapped daughter of the leader. Justine as a killer. Those were unexpected pieces of the puzzle. He needed to ponder how they fit into the bigger picture. How they changed the puzzle as a whole.

  One of the motel doors was hanging open. Inside, he could see the room lit dimly by two lanterns and the blue glow of the canned fuel Advani was using to heat their food.

  Pascal steered Justine to a chair.

  Justine sat. “I’m not hungry.”

  “You need to eat,” Advani said. “If not for you, then for the baby.”

  Pascal took a place at the table while Advani scooped something thick and brown from a pot and portioned it onto plates. He sniffed it, then wished he hadn’t.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Stew. It’s not bad if you put enough salt on it.” Advani handed him the salt.

  Pascal salted his food and took a bite. “This is awful.”

  “It’s the best I can do without fresh meat or fish.” Advani shoveled stew into her mouth.

  Pascal was sure Chef could have done better, but he didn’t say so. He choked down several mouthfuls without chewing.

  Justine pushed the food around with her fork.

  “You must eat,” Advani told her.

  “Don’t nag her,” Pascal snapped. “It’s only a few days. Give her vitamins. She’ll be fine.” He took another bite and washed the taste from his palate with a whole bottle of water.

  Advani continued eating.

  “Don’t sit there,” Pascal growled. “I told you to get vitamins.”

  Advani swallowed visibly, then pushed back from the table and went into the other room. After a moment she returned and handed Justine a small cup of pills.

  Justine looked at Pascal, then took the cup and tossed back the pills. She followed them with a few sips of water from her bottle. “I’d like to go to sleep now.”

  “Cuff her to the bed,” Pascal said, handing Advani the cuffs.

  “I’ll need the key,” Advani said. “In case she needs to urinate.”

  “Give her a bucket.”

  Advani took one of the lanterns and led Justine into the adjacent bedroom.

  “Don’t close the door,” Pascal called.

  He took the other lantern to the bedside table, and placed his mother’s Ruger and the other contents of his pockets beside it. He slipped off his shoes and pants, leaving them neatly at the foot of the bed, then extinguished the lamp and slid under the covers.

  He watched the flickers and shadows through the open door as the women moved about, getting ready for bed. He almost felt bad handcuffing Justine and treating her like a hostage after what he’d learned about her past, but if anything, it was more necessary now. He hadn’t seen her as a killer. She was far more complex than he’d estimated, and he wondered if this lapse in his abilities was temporary, or if he’d been permanently damaged by the loss of his son.

  He took the key card for the vehicle from the nightstand and placed it under his pillow. His last thought as he drifted to sleep was that, even with Justine sedated and handcuffed, it would be a mistake to underestimate her.

  Pascal awoke before dawn, but he didn’t get out of the lumpy bed. He hadn’t slept well. Something had niggled at the back of his mind all night, but he couldn’t quite grasp what it was. He watched the sky grow lighter through the gap in the curtains. Perhaps if he had a few more minutes’ peace before he woke the women, he could resolve whatever was nagging at him.

  When his bladder would no longer permit him to wait, he put on his clothes and shoes, tucked the key card and Ruger in his pocket, and stepped outside. He took a deep breath of the cool morning air and was about unzip his slacks when he heard a noise. It sounded like . . .

  The Travelers.

  Frantically, he scanned the roads. He couldn’t see them, but the sound of bicycle tires on pavement was similar enough to that of the wooden chariot wheels to ruin everything. If Justine heard it, she’d know they were being followed and the jig would be up.

  He listened at the women’s door and heard murmuring. They were awake. Shit. He had to cover the sound of the bikes, so he did the only thing he could think of.

  “Fair Genevieve, my early love! The years but make the dearer far,” he sang as he returned to his room and closed the door. “My heart shall never, never rove; thou art my only guiding star.”

  He crossed to the adjoining room while launching loudly into the second verse.

  “I see thy face in ev’ry dream, my waking thoughts are full of thee. Thy glance is in the starry beam that falls along the summer sea.”

  Justine gaped at him from her bed, and Advani looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “O Genevieve, Sweet Genevieve,” he sang as he paraded dramatically into their room. “The days may come, the days may go. But still the hands of mem’ry weave the blissful dreams of long ago.”

  He stopped near the window and listened while he took a breath. It was quiet. The bikes had passed.

  “Sir, I had no idea you sang,” Advani said.

  Justine narrowed her eyes. “Why the sudden serenade?”

  “No reason other than it’s morning,” he said. “Time to rise and shine, as my mother used to say. Doctor, come get the key to the handcuffs so Justine can get dressed.”

  He motioned Advani into his room ahead of him.

  “What was that about?” Advani asked in a hushed tone.

  He yanked her close. “Bicycles,” he said directly into her ear.

  Her eyes widened.

  He leaned close again, ignoring the stench of her breath. “Forget something last night?”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “I thought you . . .”

  “Me? You were supposed to handle that when I took Justine for the walk.”

  “I didn’t know. You didn’t say.”

  “I couldn’t exactly say, now could I. That’s why we pre-arranged it. In the future, I’ll take care of marking all the stops. Right now we have something more pressing to deal with.”

  “What?”

  “They’re ahead of us now, you idiot. How will we get past them without Justine seeing?”

  “I suppose I’ll give her a sedative,” Advani said.

  “Make it a strong one. If she sees them, your trip is over.”

  An hour later, Pascal was nearing the end of his patience. If Justine didn’t pass out soon, he might very well have to knock her out with his bare hands.

  “I’m almost ready!” the doctor called. She’d taken an exorbitant amount of time loading the car, pretending to misplace various items to prolong the chore, but the ruse was beginning to wear thin.

  “Justine, I believe it’s finally time to get in the car,” Pascal said.

  “I don’t feel well,” Justine said, holding her head. “I’m dizzy. Queasy.” Justine stood, but her knees buckled and she sat down hard in the chair.

  “Doctor, come here,” Pascal called.

  Advani rushed in from outside.

  “What did you give me?” Justine accused.

  “Vitamins, because you’re not eating,” Advani said. “Why, what’s wrong? Are you feeling ill?”
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  “It doesn’t feel like vitamins,” Justine said. “Are you sure? I feel, I feel drugged.”

  “Maybe you should rest a bit longer,” Advani said.

  “No, we have to go.” Justine stood again, grabbing Pascal’s arm to steady herself.

  “You can barely stand,” Pascal said. “How can you drive?”

  “I can’t wait another month.” Justine gripped his arm, nails biting into flesh. “You drive.”

  Pascal turned to Advani. “Doctor, is that safe?” She’d better not improvise.

  “Perfectly safe,” Advani said. “We’ll make the car comfortable with pillows and blankets. It will be like sleeping in a bed.”

  Pascal breathed a silent sigh of relief that they were leaving. And he would finally get to drive. He would actually be glad for the doctor’s blunder, provided they made it past the Travelers without incident.

  He helped Justine into the driver’s seat while Advani made a bed for her in back. Justine was so out of it, Pascal caught a peek of the code, but not the whole thing. As soon as the engine was running, Justine climbed into the back seat and Advani tucked her in.

  “She’s already out,” Advani whispered. “The sedative hit harder than I expected.”

  “It took long enough,” Pascal muttered, settling in behind the steering wheel.

  Advani climbed into the passenger seat. “I doubt I can rouse her, so I hope you know how to work this thing.”

  “I’ve watched her for hours. I know what to do.”

  Pascal put the car into gear and pushed the pedal with his toe. The car lurched forward and Advani’s head slammed against the headrest. He let off the pedal and tried again with less pressure.

  It didn’t take long for him to get the feel of the controls, and by the time they got to the freeway, he’d mastered it. From Interstate 5, he took the exit for Highway 99 toward Bakersfield. Hopefully his troops had done the same. With Minou in charge, he felt confident they had.

  Soon he saw a sign proclaiming Bakersfield. Clumped at the base of it was a mass of soldiers on bicycles. He looked at Justine in the rearview mirror. “She’d better not wake up.”

  “I can’t guarantee it,” Advani said. “But at the very least, anything she sees or hears will be distorted and difficult to recall.”

  Pascal pointed to the Travelers. “Can I risk talking to them?”

  Advani shrugged.

  Pascal struggled with the decision as he slowed alongside them. The stunned look on Minou’s face made up his mind. He pushed the button that lowered the passenger window.

  “Sir?” Minou asked.

  Pascal put his finger to his lips and indicated Justine in the backseat. “A mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “Our destination?” Minou whispered.

  “Unknown, except that we’re supposed to arrive tomorrow night, and we’re behind schedule. Could be anywhere in northern California or Nevada. San Francisco seems unlikely with the recent colonizing, plus we’d have stayed on I-5. So I’m thinking Reno maybe, or Sacramento.”

  Justine mumbled something that sounded like “marmalade fur lock.”

  “We should go,” Advani said.

  “Everything according to plan on your end?” Pascal asked Minou.

  “No problems we can’t handle,” she said. “Your markings have been good.”

  Except for the absence of the one last night.

  Pascal put up the window and eased the car forward. “Doctor, all bets are off if Justine remembers this.”

  Advani looked concerned but nodded.

  Pascal pushed hard on the pedal, increasing speed as much as he dared with his new driving skills. He knew he should slow down and give Justine as much time as possible to warp her drug-induced dreams around reality before it was necessary to wake her for directions, but to hell with it. He liked the speed.

  One Hundred Thirty-Five

  Byron Highway, California

  “Am I going too fast?” Brandt asked.

  “Not at all.” Reid cinched his pack tighter to minimize bouncing.

  “Good, because I wasn’t telling the truth about going to Sacramento. I didn’t want Nikolai to know we’re actually heading for Stockton. I’d like to make it there before dark, so we need to get a move on.”

  “Do Justine’s people live in Stockton, or is that the meeting place?”

  “Neither.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “Why not?” Reid said. “We have a plan, what difference does it make?”

  “The less you know, the better. You could still change your mind, and this way I don’t have to worry you’ll return with an army.”

  “There’s nothing more important to me than getting seeds. I’m not changing my mind.”

  Brandt raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh, come on!” Reid said. “I was temporarily insane when it came to Mia. I never stopped wanting to find seeds. I just didn’t think it was possible, and I couldn’t face going home empty-handed.”

  “Still . . .”

  “Hey.” Reid grabbed Brandt’s arm. “I admit I was an idiot, but I’m not the same person now. Nikolai was right. I learned a whole lot from what happened with Mia. I have a responsibility to my people, and hiding from that truth doesn’t change it. Without seeds, they’re going to die, and a lot sooner than the people out here. I can’t live with that on my conscience. I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Okay.” Brandt resumed walking. “But neither am I. The less you know, the better. I’ll stash you in a safe place while I go get the seeds.”

  “Let me go with you. I can help.”

  “I won’t risk it,” Brandt said. “Justine’s people have lived in secret for generations protecting their plants and animals. I can’t take the chance you’ll tell others where they are. Everything could be lost.”

  Brandt seemed dead-set, so Reid dropped the subject. For now. “How did they manage to save plants and animals? Any danger in me knowing that?”

  “I guess not,” Brandt said. “About ten years before the disaster, a religious man, a Mormon, claimed an angel warned him of a coming apocalypse. He said God was sending a flood, like in the Noah’s Ark story, but this time it would be fire, not water. The angel called this man the ‘new Noah,’ and gave him instructions for how to prepare.”

  “So he built an ark?”

  “Of sorts. He bought a mine and created an underground repository of seeds and animals. He tried to convince the Mormon church to support it and help choose families to populate it, but the church didn’t believe it was real prophecy. The man ended up splitting from the church and choosing families himself that he deemed moral and worthy of joining him.”

  “That would sound really kooky, if you didn’t know there actually was an apocalypse.”

  “It gets weirder. When the apocalypse occurred, everything inside the mine was protected from the radiation like the angel predicted—the seeds, the animals, the women and children, and Noah himself. But there had been no warning, so almost all the men were working the fields at the time and didn’t survive. They needed more men, so Noah modified the Mormon custom of missionary work and sent women to find worthy husbands among the survivors. When word got out about their community, outsiders poured in. The supplies couldn’t support everyone. When Noah realized their survival was in jeopardy, he ordered the deaths of all outsiders and created an elaborate system to keep their location secret.”

  “Justine said her people were nonviolent,” Reid said.

  “Yeah, but it’s not true. The women are taught that, but in actuality, there’s a big fence surrounding the community. It goes for miles and took years to construct. It’s topped with razor wire, and protected by armed men and vicious animals. Once you get inside the perimeter, it’s still miles before you reach the fields where they grow the crops and keep the animals. Women aren’t allowed beyond the fields except on the way to and from their missions, and then they’re given drug
s that affect their memories. That’s further protection against outsiders—the women can’t reveal how to get home, even under torture.”

  “Then how did Justine know?”

  “The man she ran away with. He’d been privy to the secrets, and figured there was no harm telling her since they could never return home.”

  “They left knowing they couldn’t go back? Knowing they’d never see their families again?”

  “Justine didn’t have a family. Her mother died when she was five, and she never knew who her father was.”

  One Hundred Thirty-Six

  Fresno, California

  Pascal gripped the steering wheel as he pulled into the outskirts of Fresno. Both women were sleeping, and Justine’s snoring was almost as irritating as the high-pitched whistle emitting from Advani’s hooked nose.

  He loved the speed of driving, but he would have enjoyed it even more if he hadn’t had to drive in circles for hours coaxing directions out of Justine. It had taken longer to get her to say “Fresno” than it had taken to drive there. He hoped she’d slept off enough of the drug to be of use now, but before he woke her, he needed to leave a message for the Travelers.

  There was a large park alongside the highway that looked like a decent place for the Travelers to wait. Pascal stopped the car, but was careful to leave it running while he painted a large “X” on the asphalt, and an arrow pointing toward the park. Minou would know what to do.

  Pascal drove down the off-ramp, bypassing the roadside motels to provide the Travelers a wide berth. He turned into a residential neighborhood and parked in front of a modest house, then pocketed the keycard.

  He nudged Advani’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Advani wiped drool from the corner of her mouth. “Huh?”

  “Watch her,” Pascal said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He pulled out the Ruger as he approached the house. The neighborhood didn’t appear inhabited, but no sense taking unnecessary risks.