by Sandra Knauf
Lily eyed Theodore with scorn. “So, President Theodore has arrived. Bear, sit the scumbag over there!”
Bear didn’t mind obliging, shoving Theodore into one of the wobbly chairs. Theodore felt his bladder jar painfully.
Lily moved closer to him. He had not been able to take his eyes off her. She bent down to stare at him up close. She smelled of strawberries.
The word “Lily” involuntarily escaped from his dry lips, but she acted as if she didn’t hear it.
“Why did you have to go bad, Ted?” She grimaced. “Oh, you don’t mind if I still call you Ted, do you, for old time’s sake?” She looked down and noticed his hands. “Still got the warts? You know it’s stress that causes them, don’t you? You’ve had them forever.” Theodore self-consciously moved his bound hands to between his legs.
“Well, it hardly matters now. You cause more stress than you get. I’m sure your mother can attest to that. Poor woman.” Lily gestured to the two men. “Ted, meet Cornelius Washington Carver Curtis, we call him Bear, and my husband, Drew Bly, also known as Cooper Davies. Two geniuses, Bear in the field of biology, Drew in the engineering sciences. And you do remember me, don’t you?”
She’s married? He had never forgotten her. He’d searched her name on the Internet many times. That’s how he learned about a group called the Green Guerrillas, a peaceful (he had thought) environmental group that staged protests and tried to make positive changes in the world, the group he’d seen at Burger Depot. He’d heard Lily was the founder, but that’s all he knew about her life after high school. In his frequent daydreams he imagined she’d be living where she said she would, on an organic farm, married, with a few kids. They’d be adopted, of course, since Lily was very concerned about over-population, and the little tykes would represent a rainbow of nationalities. This scowling, wedded-to-“Drew” woman could not be further from that fantasy. Throat tightening, he wondered if he could even answer. He forgot about his full bladder. He forgot about everything. His heart raced wildly, and fear made up only a tiny part of the agitation.
“Yes, I remember,” he said in a whisper.
“To think, we were once . . .” Lily grimaced, then smirked. “Well, Ted, you’re now the proud abductee of the Green Guerrillas. We’ve been watching you for a long time, your moves at BioTech over the years. Beefy Fries. Gee, what a clever idea.” She shook slightly with a hollow, bitter laugh. “Pretty gross if you ask me. ‘What will that guy come up with next?’ I thought at the time. Now I see those were the days of innocence. Now you’re with the greediest, most unconscionable evil-doers in the biotech industry, Void Chemical Corporation. We know what they’ve been doing in Research and Development. What you are doing is insane!”
Theodore found his voice. “Lily, I don’t know what’s going on, why you are doing this, why you have kidnapped me and Tiffany. But I’m a scientist, not an evil-doer. Most of us want to help the world. I know we’ve made some mistakes, it’s inevitable . . .” His thoughts were jarred back to yesterday, the human/plant monstrosities. If he knew anything, he knew that what was happening in that laboratory was wrong. He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself. “I didn’t know what they were doing until yesterday. I swear. They were my ideas, but I never expected, never wanted those things to be created. Lily, I was going to get out.”
Lily’s lips twisted in amusement, as if she were witnessing a kindergartner tell a big fib. “Sure you were, Ted, just when those doors opened to everything you dreamed of, which was being a big shot. I would expect a coward like you to say that.” She pulled out a v-phone from a backpack on the floor and pressed two buttons. “Hello? Yeah, we’ve got him. See you tonight.”
Her finger rested on the disconnect button. “Now Ted,” she said, bending over to peer straight into his eyes, “you are going to call Langston Void and give an Academy Award-winning performance. You’re going to tell him that you won’t be in today, that you and Tiffany had to fly to Colorado last night and you’re not sure when you’ll be back. That your niece is in the hospital and had to have an emergency appendectomy. That you got the message yesterday morning but couldn’t miss the contract signing, etc., etc. That’s why you were kind of out-of-it. From worry.”
Theodore’s mouth hung open stupidly as he tried to register everything she’d just said. Appendectomy? Fly out to Colorado? How did she know he’d been “out of it”?
“Wait,” he stammered, “ — is Zera all right?”
“Ted, Ted, Ted. You just don’t get it, do you?” Lily put her hands on her hips and leaned forward again until her pixie face, distorted by sarcasm, nearly touched his. “Let me explain this very slowly: We . . . are . . . the . . . good . . . guys. No, of course we didn’t hurt Zera. But, we have a few tricks, so that if Void tries to inquire at the hospital, or at your mother’s home, the calls will be routed to us.”
“We’ve been studying this situation for a long time. We know about everything. We’ve been keeping tabs on a lot of people, watching their every move. It’s all in place. You just have to follow through. And you will.”
“We need to talk about this,” said Theodore. No matter how tough Lily acted he could not believe she had lost all reason. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Is this worth risking imprisonment? You need to let us go, now.”
Lily stopped, pulled up the other chair, and placed it backwards right in front of him. She straddled it, her arms resting on the chair back. “This may surprise you, but I’ve changed. A lot. No more silly idealism. Imagine, I used to actually believe that people would do the right thing, given the chance. That conscience and goodness would prevail over greed.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I spent years building an organic farm, building a life, following my dream. Only, in the bitter end, did I finally learn how impossible it was to get big business to put decency over a bottom line. Or to even play fair.”
She got up and walked over to Bear and Drew who stood glowering at Theodore. “You should have seen our farm, the one I started with these brave, gifted scientists after college. We just wanted to improve our little planet instead of exploit it, and we were beginning to make a difference.
“Bear, here,” Lily continued, “worked wonders in soil and plant productivity through organic methods. He can communicate with plants, just like his namesake, George Washington Carver. You would not believe the discoveries he made! Drew developed some phenomenal solar greenhouse prototypes, pollution control designs, solar farm machinery, new fuels. We were working so hard together to start a new revolution. A green revolution.”
Her eyes glazed with tears. She turned away and wiped them. When she turned back they were dry and hard. She scowled. “We were simpletons. You see, when we started to get big, VCC was there to knock us down. There started to be little ‘accidents,’ overspray of herbicide onto our fields, so our crops were tainted with chemicals, and could no longer be certified organic. Greenhouses vandalized, computers broken into and files stolen and hacked. Then, a couple of years ago, a fire in Bear’s laboratory. Bear’s wife, Olivia, died in that fire.” At these words, Lily’s eyes were wild with fury and remembered grief. “We were done,” she snapped her fingers. “It was over. Just like that.
“They paid off just enough powers-that-be so that when I tried to do something about it, I ran into brick walls of corruption. What a ninny I was, Ted. But no more. Remember how I used to be a pacifist? Well, that’s changed, thanks to people like you.” She practically spat at him, her face a mask of rage. “If you don’t do exactly as I say, I’m going to let Drew and Bear take you apart, piece by piece. And I’m going to allow myself to enjoy it.”
Bear moved in on Theodore. He bent down over him, dreadlocks brushing against Theodore’s face. Theodore looked down and saw a tattoo on one powerful fist — a planet Earth with the word “Mom” printed over it.
“I’d love to take you down, Theo,” whispered Bear.
“Please, no violence,” Theodore said, his heart pounding. “I’ll c
ooperate.”
Lily looked at her v-phone. “It’s almost eight-thirty. Void will be getting to the office soon. We’ll wait for the call letting us know he’s there.” She walked to a crate-table and picked up a piece of paper. “I have a script here that you’re going to follow word-for-word. You’re going to memorize it, and you have ten minutes to do so.” She motioned to Bear. “Better cut his hands loose.”
Theodore weighed his options — he was isolated and outnumbered by angry, grief-stricken captors. He didn’t see that he had any options but to cooperate. “What about Tiffany?”
“Hmmm, what about Tiffany,” Lily murmured. “Let’s see,” her voice rose almost to a yell, “You tell Void she’s with you, you idiot!”
“No,” Theodore said, “I mean, what are you going to do with her? She’s been in that van all night. She needs food, water, to go to the bathroom.”
“Oh, does wittle Theodore have a heart after all?” Lily mocked. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your girlfriend. Drew’ll bring her in. After you make your phone call.”
From outside came a blood-curdling scream. Tiffany.
Chapter Twenty-three
Despite Nonny’s worry over Uncle Theodore, Zera heard her snoring, sound asleep just minutes after they went to bed.
Following the call to The Grand Hotel in Los Angeles, Zera was even more awake. Lying in bed, the words rang in her mind. Mr. Green has checked out. Zera stared up at the ceiling in her dark bedroom, the glow-in-the-dark constellation seeming so child-like now. She considered waking up Nonny, but decided against it.
She tossed and turned, waiting for the long, terrible night to be over so she could finally . . .
* * *
Standing on a small hill, Zera viewed the meadow below, a blanket of tall, moving grass splashed with vibrant wildflowers. Butterflies floated from flower to flower, suckling nectar. Bees gathered pollen. Birdsong and sweet scents drifted through the air. Peace filled her.
She saw him. A boy with dark, wild-looking hair, about her age, running, whooping with joy as he cut a zig-zaggy line through the vegetation. Zera laughed out loud as he stopped and twirled, skinny arms outstretched, dancing round and round. Her laugh turned into a giggle as he dramatically flopped down, disappearing into the tall, swaying grass not twenty feet away. She walked toward him.
He didn’t look up. She wondered why he hadn’t heard her. She thought of calling to him, but before she could, the meadow around him shrank. Low grass and patches of dirt replaced the tall grass and flowers. He lay in a patch of dirt. His eyes were closed and his expression blissful. He hadn’t noticed the dramatic change that had taken place around him. That’s weird about the meadow; but what’s weirder is I know that kid from somewhere.
A small spot in the ground in front of the boy silently erupted. The earth vibrated. The boy opened his eyes. He sat upright and looked around, his expression startled, but not afraid.
He and Zera, who now stood behind him, watched, mouths open in astonishment, as a tree silently and quickly grew from delicate twig to mighty tower. I know that tree, too. It’s the one from Tava. The Green Man and Woman tree. What’s it doing here? They stared at the tree, now grown into a noble giant. A dozen or so birds flew to its branches. They sang in sweet, soothing tunes. The boy smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and lay down again as if what happened was not that remarkable after all. He gazed up into the glowing leafy branches. Zera, too, felt as if there were nothing to be worried about. She wished she were lying under the tree, enjoying the enchantment of the green shadow- and light-filled canopy. She would ask if she could join him.
“Hello,” she said.
He didn’t turn toward her, didn’t move. She tried again, stepping forward. “Hello, hi!” Again, no response.
The day was sunny and calm, and as Zera wondered why the boy couldn’t hear her the tree’s branches began to sway in the windless air. Zera felt the change. Something ominous. The sun was suddenly too bright. The breeze turned into a harsh, chilling wind. The birds screeched and flew away. Zera shivered. The boy, who had raised himself up on his elbows, looked frightened too. The branches moved on their own with increasing animation. Worry turned to dread. No, Zera thought, no. She looked from the tree to the boy. He now was changing as the tree had changed. It had changed from a twig to a full-grown tree in seconds; she watched the boy transform, in seconds, to an adult.
Zera stepped backward in surprise and caught her breath — the boy was Uncle Theodore.
The massive branches above her uncle swayed, and began to whip around furiously. She heard the cries from the leafy branches, watched as he stared up at them, his eyes wide in horror.
“Why?” came the wails, the wails of thousands. “Why did you do this to us?” Theodore covered his ears with his now-warty hands, his eyes glued to the tree’s canopy.
“My God, it’s the stomatas!” he cried, trying to stand. His legs seemed unable to support him. He’s going to fall, thought Zera, forgetting her fears and stepping forward again. They, those voices, are going to make him fall. She reached out and grabbed for his arm but her hand went right through him. What’s happening to me? she thought. Her uncle tottered but didn’t fall. He steadied himself, stood upright, put his hands over his ears again, and before Zera could act, he ran. The meadow grew up again around him again as he fled. Jeers and shouts rang out as he took off: “You don’t care about us. You only care about yourself.” “You’re sick.” “Leave this place!”
It came to her, the meaning of stomata. She’d learned in biology they were tiny openings on the undersides of leaves, pores that regulated moisture. They closed when it was dry, opened up in wetness. Mouth-shaped organs. That’s where those voices came from.
Zera stood, immobile, stunned. Not only at what had happened, but because she now felt what the leaves, what the plants, felt; their sadness and hurt, their anger at her uncle’s . . . betrayal. Yes, she thought, that’s what they feel. At the same time, Theodore’s fear and horror coursed through her as she watched him run away.
“Uncle Theodore!” she screamed, forgetting he couldn’t hear her. She raced down the hillside after him. She tore through the grass, following the path he made, yelling at the tall, frightened man with the wild hair and furiously pumping arms fifty feet in front of her.
And then, he was gone.
Zera stopped, spun around, searched for him in all directions. The wind had ceased. So had the screeching birds, the angry voices of the plants. The path her uncle had blazed through the grass had disappeared. All was calm again. It was as if he had never been there. She looked behind her. The tree was gone, too. Where has he gone? He needs my help.
A multitude of wildflowers: black-eyed Susans, coneflowers, Indian paintbrush, oxeye daisies, bee balm, yarrow, wild roses, and others, sent out happy tidings to Zera. She could hear them as she walked among them, the grass beneath her releasing its fragrance. Sunshine. Chlorophyll. The plants murmured in distinct voices, and Zera knew them as individuals; she could tell exactly whose voice belonged to whom.
“You wouldn’t hurt us,” said a scarlet bee balm in a high female voice.
“You understand,” whispered a daisy.
“You know we can help each other,” said a masculine Indian paintbrush.
“Yes, help each other. To live together,” sang a clump of white yarrow in unison.
“We love you,” a purple coneflower declared.
She looked at them and realized, she did understand, more and more. But what about her uncle?
Nothing but love radiated from the flowers, yet Zera’s body felt heavy with worry as she walked along. She found a worn, winding path through the meadow and followed it, still hoping to find him. She wanted more than anything, after seeing him as a boy, to help him.
The path took her to the edge of the meadow where she found a brook.
“We’re all one, Zera,” it gurgled. “The saying is all wrong, you know. Water is thicker than blood. Water is the
real blood, of all life.” It laughed a merry laugh of clear liquid life dancing over round rocks.
For a moment Zera forgot about her uncle. What a happy brook, she thought, so pleasant, and wise! She gazed at its glittering energy, the sun reflecting off it in a thousand lights. I can see the brook’s spirit! She saw her own wavy reflection within it — dark auburn hair, her now-smiling heart-shaped face. Their spirits, she knew with absolute certainty, were one.
“Come in,” the brook said.
With no hesitation, Zera sat down on its mossy bank, took off her red sneakers, and crammed her socks into them. She slid her feet into the water. Cold. Delightful. She grinned at the twinkling water and her submerged feet. She wiggled her toes a few moments before standing and picking up her shoes. She splashed along the edge of the brook, her uncle completely forgotten.
The brook curved around a bend, and she realized she was thirsty. She squatted, cupped her hands, and scooped a measure of sparkling water. As she lifted it to her lips, she hesitated; she remembered something her parents told her long ago, that no natural water sources were pollution-free. Not anymore. Water from a stream could make you very ill.
“It’s okay,” said the brook. “I’m not contaminated. Please, drink from me.”
She heard my thoughts.
The water was icy on her lips and in her mouth. She closed her eyes and splashed some on her face. When she opened them a moment later, she felt the presence of something behind her.
Above the bank rose another tree. She turned and felt a shock. It was hideously burned, blasted by lightning. Yet, its life force remained so strong a multitude of shoots had sprung up from its roots. These new, tender branches were in full leaf, flourishing, trying to bring life to the tree. How could it still be alive?
Again, she did not see a face but heard words. In a tired, masculine voice, the tree told her, “If the injured parts are removed, perhaps I may live fully again. Oh, but it is draining my energy.”