Gray (Book 2)

by Cadle, Lou

  Coral was never left alone for more than a few seconds, and she had no doubt she was being watched all the time. She had to assume the same was true of Benjamin. By the end of the third night, she was revising her estimate of the time she’d need to escape. Was there a clock ticking, counting down the time she had left to reveal her—her “Seediness” or not—to Tithing? He hadn’t spoken to her directly, but she suspected Brynn was reporting to him.

  The next morning, there was no breakfast. Polly slept in, and Brynn told Coral to sleep, or wait, whichever she preferred.

  “For what?” Coral said, nervously.

  “Just wait,” said Brynn.

  When she was gone, Coral crept to the blanket doorway, pulled the blanket an inch away from the door frame, and peered out. There was no activity that she could see. She dared to stick her head out further and looked around.

  No one.

  The silence, the sense of anticipation, was spooking her. She stepped from the cabin and edged around the wall, sneaking a peek around the corner. Still no one. She edged to the other side of the cabin and looked the other way. The group’s one black man, Jim, was coming back from the direction of the outhouse, walking at a good clip. Coral drew her head back and went inside.

  Polly was stirring. “Is it meeting yet?”

  So that’s why the morning routine was off. “I don’t know. Is it usually this time?”

  She yawned, hugely, and a cloud of vapor formed in front of her face. “Yeah. And I could sleep all day.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Coral.

  The girl stood and pulled her dress of the stone peg, took off her jacket, and slipped the dress over her head. They let her sleep in soft pants, men’s pajama bottoms, which Coral was glad to see. Coral’s own jeans were still on her legs under the burlap shift, not yet confiscated. She hoped they’d given in on that point.

  Polly wiggled her pajama pants down from under the dress and pulled on an extra pair of socks. Then she straightened the blankets on her cot, shook out her pillow, and put it squarely at the head of the cot. She sat on the cot and yawned again.

  “Stop. You’re making me yawn, too,” said Coral.

  Polly gave her a tiny smile. “Sorry.”

  “Where are your parents, Polly?”

  “Farm in Nevada.”

  Coral counted up the others she’d heard mentioned. “So there are four of them?”

  “Oh, no, a hundred or so, all around the world. And people in mundane life, too, who can’t be on Farms yet. They earn money to help.” She frowned. “Or they did.”

  “Really?” Coral wondered if the girl was exaggerating, or hopeful, or mistaken about the hundred Farms. Coral had certainly never heard of the cult. “In other countries?”

  She said, “Belgium, Germany, Canada, New Zealand, Japan.” It sounded rote, as if she had memorized it.

  Did that make it any more likely to be true? “And in the U.S.”

  “We started here.”

  “Is there a name for the—the organization?”

  “The Seed,” Polly said. “We’re The Seed.” Brynn’s whistle blew, and Polly jumped up, motioning Coral to go ahead of her. “We can’t be late.”

  The men were headed toward the cabin in a long single file, and the last couple was emerging from their cabin, Ellie and her husband. Twelve adult members, plus Polly, and the two prisoners. Coral hadn’t heard the name of Ellie’s husband, or two other of the men, because of the gender segregation.

  She tried to maneuver herself closer to Benjamin, hoping to exchange at least a word or two with him, but Mondra split off and approached to wish her a good morning—or to block her path to Benjamin, Coral suspected. As she entered the cabin, she saw the dining table had been pushed to the back of the room. The chairs were lined up as for a church service. The men sat in them, and Brynn and Joli, the two oldest women, which perhaps conferred that privilege on them, sat on a pair of crates, pulled back from the male seating, leaving a space of four feet between the two groups. Polly, Ellie, and Mondra stood in back, and Mondra motioned Coral to stand by her. It was interesting that being married to Tithing didn’t afford Mondra any special seat.

  “Welcome,” said Tithing, standing and facing them all. “Another happy day for us.”

  “Good morning,” said a few of the congregants.

  “We welcome our two special guests and hope our message of love and acceptance reaches their hearts.”

  Jim thumped Benjamin on the shoulder. Coral could see Ellie and Mondra turn toward her and smile, and Alva turned all the way around in his chair and gave her a grin. She tried to smile back, but it felt pained and must have looked that way. She looked around herself and noticed, for the first time, a dream catcher on the left-hand wall. Her back must have been to it every time she had eaten a meal. Or maybe they had put it up for this meeting.

  “The Reaping has begun,” intoned Tithing, something he’d obviously said many times before.

  “And we are The Seed,” chanted everyone else.

  “Our time has come,” said Tithing, still using the ritual voice. “And we rejoice.” Then his voice changed, to something more conversational. “The time may be upon us, but our task is not yet wholly done. Before we can be gathered, there are Seeds who need our help.”

  Half the heads nodded.

  “I’m pleased to tell you that we were able to contact the Oregon Farm this morning, and Melinda has had her baby. He’s healthy and strong.”

  Murmurs all around.

  “One more Flower has found its manifestation in human form.”

  One of the men said, “All credit to the Sowers.”

  More nods.

  Okiedokie, thought Coral. I’m more confused than ever. But so far, it’s no scarier than they have been until now.

  Tithing said, “But there are many more Flowers, and Grains, lost through accident in the Reaping. We must do our part to gather them, to allow the Sowers to fulfill their destiny. To allow us to fulfill ours.” He made eye contact with Coral.

  Uh-oh. She braced for something bad.

  But his gaze left her and swept the room again as he said. “If anyone wants to speak, please stand. And say your name, in case our visitors haven’t yet met you.”

  A young man stood. “I’m Lorne, and I wanted to ask about the food. Even if one of our ladies quickens, we won’t have enough food to last us all until the birth. Unless one is…?” And he glanced back at the women.

  Joli, Mondra, and Ellie all shook their heads. A collective sigh swept through the room: disappointment.

  “I’m glad you mentioned that,” said Tithing. “I had planned to start sending out hunting parties. Benjamin, our guest, told me he had luck with hunting small game. We should hunt, too. It will extend our stores.” He looked at Coral. “And this lady has brought us fishing gear.”

  Calex popped up. “You won’t allow her to go fishing? Why the nearest lake is—”

  Tithing held up his hand. “Of course not. If she’s Seed, we wouldn’t risk her. But surely we men here can fish. It isn’t interstellar navigation, after all.”

  A couple of chuckles came from the men.

  One by one, another half-dozen people stood up. Most had practical questions or comments. The one that made Coral listen hardest said, “There’s something wrong with the battery for the radio. It isn’t holding a charge.”

  “Pratt, will you look at it?”

  “The battery is getting old. But I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s all we can ask of you.”

  Only one person had a religious question. “Are there any signs of the final Reaping, Tithing? Have they seen any in Oregon, or heard of any?”

  “They haven’t heard from British Columbia this week. And no one has been able to get through to California. The signs are small, still, but they are accumulating. We have some time, I think, but not all the time in this world. I believe less than a year.”

  Coral had seen the suicides up in the
mountain. She knew there were suicide cults. Was this one of them? There’d come a time, and Tithing or some other leader would decide it was their special time, and they’d arrange the poisoned punch party? For a second, she wondered if the suicide family they’d seen had been part of this group—but no, there was nothing overtly Christian about the Seed philosophy. She’d have to ask Benjamin, but she didn’t think they were quoting Revelation here.

  They had to escape here. Before group suicide. Before Tithing decided they were not among the Elect or Select or Chosen or whatever the right term was. Before it dawned on the Seed that two scrawny visitors could extend their food stores an extra month.

  Could she sneak out at night, meet Benjamin, get away? How to give him the message to meet? Could she hide herself off the path to the outhouse and waylay him? Not if Brynn were watching her. And she certainly couldn’t sit outside all night, hoping he might come down the path. Even if she didn’t get caught, she’d freeze out there.

  She wished they’d worked out some sort of sign language months ago, in case this very sort of thing happened. But who knew—? Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp elbow to her side.

  “Still with us, Coral?” Tithing asked. Most of the heads were turned to look at her.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  “So if the two of you will come with me to my cabin now. And the rest of you pair up as usual, and share your thoughts about the Sowers and the Reaping.”

  Chairs and boxes scraped on the floor, and people moved to face each other in pairs. Tithing motioned Benjamin over, and headed toward the door. He looked at Coral, his eyebrows raised. Clearly, she was to follow him.

  Maybe this was her chance to say something to Benjamin. She could whisper something, or squeeze his hand to let him know she was still herself, not a cult convert, and that they were still together in this.

  But it was not to be. Tithing took her hand, wrapped it through the crook of his arm and said, “Go on ahead, Ben, into the couple-cabin.”

  He patted her gloved hand. “How are things? Settling in?”

  “I’m getting to know the place. And my jaw doesn’t hurt so bad.” She saw Benjamin’s step falter at that. “I’d like to volunteer to fish, though.”

  Tithing chuckled. “You’re doing fine where you are. Maybe in a few months, that’ll be possible.”

  In a few months, buddy, I won’t be anything to you but a vague memory. You won’t even remember my name.

  “The sisters treating you well?”

  “Fine,” she said. She racked her brain for something to say that would seem vague to him but tell Benjamin something important. “Brynn says she wants me to learn how to help with the animals this week.” The donkey and goats were kept a little ways off from the main compound. Maybe Benjamin could sneak out there and meet her. She knew he was listening.

  Tithing said, “Good to hear,” and then to Benjamin, who had reached the cabin. “Go on, son, open the door.” Weird thing to say, “son”—Tithing wasn’t that much older than Benjamin, if at all.

  The three of them walked into the empty quadrant of the cabin and Tithing motioned them to sit on the bare cot. He pulled over an empty crate, lit a candle and put it on the floor, and sat in front of them. His eyes never left them, or Coral would have taken the chance to reach over and touch Benjamin’s arm. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching Tithing, his features relaxed, his expression flat.

  “I want to tell you both a story,” Tithing said. “Will you hear me out?”

  Benjamin nodded, and Coral followed suit.

  “Once upon a time,” he said, “There was a race of beings. They began their existence in a galaxy we call M-109. They discovered the secret of space travel—as we have. They discovered the secret of cloning and genetic manipulation—as we have. They also moved well beyond where we are now, and they discovered how to transfer a sentient mind from one body to another. And finally, they discovered how to take that sentient mind, separate it from the body, and achieve a new level of existence.

  “They achieved the understanding, in this incorporeal form, of how the universe came to be, its age and its making. They could not find a way to leave this universe, not yet, but they found proof positive of the existence of others. And they wanted to make that trip, wanted it more than you or I have ever wanted anything in our short, miserable lives.

  “They believed there was a solution to this, but the solution was to be found in experience. In experience gained, insight gained, while back in a body. But not their old bodies, necessarily. And not just any bodies. Special bodies, of many, many species, all over this galaxy and the Andromeda Galaxy and many others, species that have reached a point in their evolution that allow for a special perspective.

  “There are brains that are not capable of this, even among the right species. There are brains that are. Those who possess these advanced brains…They are the carriers. They are The Seed.”

  He glanced from one to the other. “Are you following?”

  “Yes,” said Benjamin.

  Coral nodded.

  “In every of these species, there comes a time when these creatures have learned all they can. With humans, they learn of love, and loss, of regrets. Of strength and anger and weakness. Of greed and compassion. And the Sowers learn of our technologies, some of which are new to them, and which can be added to the whole of their grand knowledge. All in the service of inter-universal travel.”

  He rose from the crate. Coral’s eyes followed him as he began to pace the small area.

  “We are Seed. We are these alien beings, having a human experience in a human world. Our bodies are the conduits, the temporary repositories for these superior beings. We have been Selected, you see. And humanity’s time has come to an end—sooner, I confess, than I had guessed.”

  He spun and pointed to Coral. “Are you Seed?” He pointed at Benjamin. “Are you?”

  Was she supposed to answer?

  But he didn’t want an answer. “That is part of my task, here. To decide. If you are, then you have found us for a reason.”

  Technically, they’d been found, and she was not happy about it. When Tithing turned away for a moment in his pacing, she, quick as she could, elbowed Benjamin. He shook his head and kept watching Tithing.

  Who turned toward them again. “Let me show you something.” He pushed through a tarp.

  Coral turned and grabbed Benjamin’s jacket and turned him toward her. She stared at his face and mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  He gave her a nod and mouthed back, “Are you?” When she nodded back, he mouthed. “Be careful.” They both faced front again, as Tithing swept back through the tarp. He was carrying a telescope, a small thing on a tripod, half the size of the rifle Benjamin had been carrying. He set it on the floor and it wobbled before it settled on the three spindly legs.

  “We saw a sign. We knew the Reaping was coming. There were explosions on Mars.”

  They could see details on Mars with that tiny thing? Coral doubted it, but what did she know?

  “And we emailed and called the other Farms and wished them well. Then all of us, all Seed around the world, went into our caves and our bomb shelters and awaited what we knew was coming.” He sat down again and leaned forward, close to Coral. “And we survived.”

  It was the first thing he’d said she could agree with.

  “A weapon did this, an alien weapon from M-109, transported hundreds of thousands of light years, timed precisely in a trip begun long ago, when Homo sapiens had branched off from the apes. All those years ago, it was sent. Just this year, it was detonated. It is time to Reap the alien souls and send them on.” He smiled hugely. “It may even be time to finally cross the barrier and enter the next universe. That, I don’t know.”

  But if he were a super-intelligent alien, why wouldn’t he know? Coral saw two dozen other logical holes in this fable, and she wondered why he couldn’t. Was he stupid? He didn’t seem stupid, though—jus
t delusional.

  “Here is our task, then. There were Seeds whose human forms were destroyed in the Reaping. The weapon is great, but not as selective as it might have been.”

  Well, why the hell not? Seemed pretty sloppy of inter-dimensional super-beings to make something no better than a giant nuke and blast the good, the bad, and the indifferent all with the same force.

  There was more from Tithing—much more. The lecture continued for long, tedious minutes. She followed some of it but her attention kept drifting away. More and more, as it got crazier and crazier, she felt the compulsion to work out a precise escape plan. Benjamin would have to be contacted. Night would be best. They’d need supplies. Her attention drifted back to hear Tithing say:

  “The final Reaping needs to take place from the human form. So those Seeds that are now in spirit form must be put back into human form, and soon. Our women are precious to us. Every Grain—”

  Coral jumped up, having belatedly gotten where this was headed. “Not me. No how, no way. You are not going to breed little aliens on me, buddy.”

  Chapter 10

  Tithing looked offended. “It’s an honor.”

  “It’s rape,” she said.

  He looked horrified. “No, no, never that. That would be Weedlike behavior.”

  Ah, Weeds. More nonsense categories. “Maybe I’m a Weed.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so because it’s not convenient to your whacked out little—”

  “Coral!” said Benjamin. “Hear the man out.”

  Tithing shook off his shock and gathered himself together. His look of horror at Coral’s words smoothed into a more pleasant expression. “Thank you, Benjamin. You’re a reasonable man.”

  “You don’t think—” she said to Benjamin.

  “Sit,” he said, his eyes intense.

  “And the horse you rode in on,” Coral said to him. Could he not see what was going to happen to her? Didn’t he care? She took a step toward the door, but Benjamin grabbed her arm.