by Ann Pino
It’s a good feeling to plant things in the ground, and not just because I know it means food later on. There’s something about the sun and dirt that I like. It feels like hope, like there really will be a future.
I think all of us felt the same way because we gardeners sat together at dinner and the sadness, anger, and vicious gossip of the other kids didn’t affect us. While children whined and kids my age flirted, argued, and flaunted their weird new jewelry made from bits of plastic signs, we discussed our potato garden and felt optimistic for the first time in I don’t know how long.
After dinner, Galahad said I seemed happy. We hung out for a little while near the stairs and he asked if I wanted more plants. Hell yes, I do! And then I want—
Enough. I’ll just be grateful for what I have.
CHAPTER SIX
Dirt collection for the potato garden began after breakfast and Cassie immediately saw that even if all went well, it would be a long process. The nearest source of dirt was a park several blocks away and it would have to be brought on foot because the shuttle couldn’t be spared.
“Potatoes in a couple months will be damn useless if we’re dead because we didn’t look for something we can eat today,” David told her.
“We’ll bring back as much dirt as we have room for,” Galahad added. “If we find some extra gasoline, maybe we can do a separate run.”
“If you can get some soil from a nursery, that would be best,” Cassie said.
David rolled his eyes. “We’ve got no time to be going to anyplace that isn’t likely to have food or batteries.”
“But what about fertilizer?”
“Use shit. There’s plenty of it around here.”
When Leila came to the driveway to see the shuttle off, Cassie raised her eyebrows. “Your boyfriend has a crude sense of humor.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You’ve been out late with him two nights in a row.”
“That doesn’t make him my boyfriend.” Leila jerked her chin in the direction of a utility cart loaded with empty buckets and laundry sacks. “Can we go? I want to get out of here before Paul finds me and starts pestering me about Jesus.”
“He likes you,” Cassie said as they wheeled the cart into the street. “He’s probably a better long-term bet than a guy like David. Galahad says—”
“What guy wouldn’t put in a good word for his cousin?” Leila maneuvered their cart around a fallen traffic light. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’ve been spending time with Galahad.”
Cassie blushed. “There’s nothing between us, and it’s not like we disappear for half the night. Anyone can see we’re only talking.”
Both girls held their breath as they passed the reeking garage where they and other groups had been dumping their trash, but once they were past, Leila scanned the streets with a purposeful air. Suspecting she was interested in more than the litter, pigeons, and occasional kids walking around, Cassie asked what she was looking for. “We’re not in much danger. Things have been quiet lately and we’ve got no trade goods.”
Leila frowned at the darkened shop windows. “They say the girl who makes that plastic jewelry has her shop around here. I thought maybe we could take a look.”
“Why? You’ve got plenty of real jewelry.”
“Gold and diamonds are common as dirt since everyone looted the jewelry stores. This girl May makes things that are different. Every piece is unique.”
“But why would you want to wear part of a McDonald’s sign or traffic light?”
Leila sighed in annoyance. “It’s the fashion, okay?”
“We’ve got more important things to worry about than fashion.”
“Lighten up, will you? You used to be fun.”
“And you used to care about things that mattered.”
Both girls lapsed into sullen silence, not even bothering to whisper to each other when they passed a bakery that had been taken over by the Pharms and turned into a drug kiosk. They nodded politely at the painted children out front chanting what the store had to offer, turning away when one boy screeched after them, “You’ll be back! You’ll get lockjaw or rabies and you’ll be back!”
“See?” Leila said once they were out of earshot. “If you don’t have a protector out here, you’ll die. You have to either find someone with influence or say screw it and have a good time until we all die anyway.”
“That’s not the right attitude,” Cassie said, remembering Galahad’s words of the night before. “We have a civilization to think of. This is about something bigger than our own survival.”
“Listen to you—you’re becoming an idealist.” Leila was about to say more but suddenly tugged the cart hard to the right. “There it is! Let’s go check it out.”
Cassie squinted at the shop ahead, its bare canopy frame hung with colorful streamers and chains of broken glass that clattered in the breeze. A hand-lettered sign said “May’s Creations.” “We haven’t got time. How about we come back once we’ve got the potatoes planted?”
“It’ll be weeks before we get enough dirt to plant potatoes and this will only take a minute.”
Curious in spite of herself, Cassie consented. It had been a long time since she had been inside a store that was not only open for business but dedicated to selling things of no practical value. Since their cart contained nothing of interest to thieves, they left it under the awning frame and approached the door, where a cardboard sign warned in strictest terms that the shop was under guard and troublemakers would be dealt with. Wondering what kind of guards the place had, Cassie opened the door and looked inside.
The shop was small and dim, partially lit by sunlight from the grimy windows and illuminated in the dark corners by solar-charged lanterns and glowing glass bowls, each a different color. It was these bowls that made Leila draw in her breath in delight and she nudged Cassie out of the way and took a few tentative steps inside.
Cassie saw no guards or even a shopkeeper. She looked around in confusion, distracted by the lights, the streamers, the chains of colorful plastic beads and the chimes and mobiles made from old street signs and shattered mirrors. She was beginning to wonder if it was an elaborate trap of some kind when a slim Asian girl emerged from a back room. She was dressed in practical jeans and a sweater, but her long hair was tied up in fanciful loops and braids, accented with scraps of colored cellophane. Her face was painted in elaborate designs that included a butterfly on one pale cheek.
“Feel free to look around and ask questions,” she said. “I make everything here myself.”
While Leila examined necklaces and earrings, Cassie peered at a globe that glowed faintly blue. It was too dim to make a reading light, but in her mind she saw the dark halls of the hotel and tried to imagine what they might look like illuminated with globes glowing red, blue and yellow. “What makes it light up?” she asked.
“Chemicals,” May said.
“How long do they last?”
“Depends on the color. Some last up to twelve hours, some only four or five. They’re priced at one food can per four hours.” At the look of disappointment on Cassie’s face, May added, “Satisfaction guaranteed. I make them on demand and I’ll replace anything that doesn’t work as promised.”
“It’s not that. I was just thinking what great nightlights they’d make, but they’re not much use to us if they have to be replaced every night. Are these like chemical light sticks, then? Any chance you can tell us how to make them?”
Before May could answer, Leila interrupted, holding up an amber plastic pendant. “How much for this?”
May took a closer look. “The acid-etchings cost two cans of food or four batteries.”
“No chance you’d take a diamond?” Leila held out a ring-studded hand.
May shook her head. “I’ve got diamonds. If you could find me some more chemicals though, so I wouldn’t be so dependent on the Pharms, that would be nice.”
Cassie had been examining an acid-etched pi
ece of glass but now she stood up straight. “You have dealings with the Pharms?”
“A girl’s got to finance her creative ventures somehow. You don’t think I’m surviving off selling traffic light necklaces, do you? They give me chemicals and protection; I make some of their simpler compounds, like menthol and extracted iodine.”
“So can we buy medicine from you directly?”
“No way. Me and the Pharms have an agreement. You’re welcome to buy anything you see on my shelves, but that’s it. Nothing else I do is for sale.”
“I understand,” Cassie said. She turned to Leila, who was leaning into a mirror to examine the way a pair of glass-chip earrings glittered in her ears. “Come on. We need to get to the park.”
“But I like these.”
“Buy them, if you’ve got something she wants. Otherwise, let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”
With a frown of disappointment, Leila laid the earrings on the velvet scarf where she had found them. “I’ll find some trade goods,” she told May. “And I’ll come back.”
* * *
When they got to the park, they found the other members of their group huddled under a tree, shovels and half-full buckets of earth abandoned. A few of the younger children were crying and the older ones were trying to calm them down.
“It was just your imagination,” a girl named Riley insisted.
“An ordinary van,” said Parker, one of the guards. “And even if it was them, what do you think I’m here for? Decoration?”
“What’s going on?” Cassie asked. Between the wailing children and Leila’s preference for shopping, they’d be lucky to get so much as a single bucket of dirt collected.
“Brats thought they saw some Obits,” Parker said. “As if they would go driving around in broad daylight or something.”
“But it was them!” a boy insisted. “You just don’t want to admit it. You’re scared, too!”
“I am not. They don’t want me, just little ones like you.”
“Stop that,” Cassie said. “You’re upsetting them.” She looked at each of the younger children in turn. “There’s no more vans and we’re here to protect you. Now let’s dig so we can go back to the hotel and plant potatoes.”
Two children picked up their shovels and sullenly poked at the ground, but the youngest ones stared at her, unmoved.
“See?” Parker said. “They’re hopeless. Might as well let the Obits have them. It’ll be fewer people to eat potatoes.”
“You wouldn’t say that if my father was here!” a girl said.
“But he isn’t, is he?” Parker smirked. “He’s rotting in a pit like all the others.” He began walking across the grass, back toward the hotel.
Some of the children ran after him, shrieking, while the ones who remained stared at Cassie with big eyes. Although she would’ve liked to have screamed with frustration too, Cassie forced herself to take a breath. “Let’s get to work,” she said, gesturing toward the shovels. “I promise you’ll be safe.”
* * *
Their first load of dirt was so pitiful in relation to the size of the swimming pool that Cassie wanted to cry. It didn’t help that the youngest children refused to return to the park, fearing Obits. Since they were slow workers and not very strong, Cassie told herself it didn’t matter. She and Leila rounded up the older children and they made two more trips, not collecting enough dirt to fill even a single corner to the depth that would be required. Discouraged, Cassie sat on the edge of the pool in the late afternoon sunlight, wondering what to do next.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
She turned to see Galahad walking toward her, a plastic bag of potting soil balanced on one shoulder. As he approached the pool and peered in, she watched his face for a reaction.
He stared for a long moment at the inadequate scattering of dirt, then ripped open his plastic bag and tossed in the rich black soil. “I’ve got two more downstairs, but it looks like we’ll need a different strategy if we’re going to have a garden before we’re old enough for the Telo to get us.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Too bad we can’t do this in one of the parks.”
“Too dangerous, and someone would likely come along and dig them up, anyway. There’s got to be a way to make this work, though.” Galahad squinted at the pool. “Couldn’t we just bring in enough dirt to make rows, with walkways in between?”
“How would we keep the dirt in place? If we pile it up, it’ll erode when we water the plants.”
“There’s all kinds of scrap around. We could make boxes of some kind.”
Cassie considered. “If there was proper drainage, it might work.”
“Maybe Sid could design something for us.” When Cassie hesitated, he added, “I’m sure he likes potatoes as much as anyone else. Since he considers himself an engineer it should be an easy job for him.”
They went downstairs and found Sid in the lobby doing things with foil and cardboard boxes. “Getting too warm outside to keep building a fire in the kitchen grill,” he explained. “Heats up the whole place, not to mention it’s always been a fire and carbon monoxide danger. We’re going to start testing solar box cookers as soon as I get a few made.”
“My family had one at our retreat,” Cassie said, taking a closer look. “I didn’t know they could be made with ordinary foil.” She picked up one of the diagrams on a coffee table. “What are you going to use for the window part?”
“There’s broken glass everywhere,” Sid said with a wave of his hand. “If it doesn’t suit, I’ll break more.”
“What we actually came here for,” Galahad said, “Was to talk to you about our potato garden.”
Sid fixed him with a withering look. “I’m an engineer, not a farmer or landscape designer.”
“And if you want something to cook in your shiny box, you’ll help us out. Consider it civil engineering.”
They locked eyes and Sid looked away first. “Okay. But if I help you design something, that doesn’t mean I’m going to build it for you, too. And I’ll need some help with these box cookers to compensate for my time.”
“I’ll help,” Cassie said. “I’ll even teach Sandra how to use them.”
Reluctantly, Sid got to his feet. “Okay, show me this potato project.”
EXCERPT FROM CASSIE’S JOURNAL:
The potato garden isn’t going to work as planned, but this afternoon Sid made a sketch of how we could do it with a lot less dirt than we originally thought. It’ll have rows of boxed-in areas with the soil built up to about two feet inside, surrounded by walkways on the concrete floor of the pool. Each box will have drainage holes at the bottom so the roots won’t rot and the water will run down the drain in the pool. The design is a good one, since it means we’ll be able to walk around all the plants to weed and water. The sides of the boxes will pull away at harvest time so we won’t have to dig.
Galahad says there’s materials in the hotel’s storage areas that we can use to build the boxes, but it got late and we didn’t have a chance to go down there. He’s going to have David and some of the other foragers help him in the morning and Sid promised to be on hand in the afternoon to guide us in putting the first one or two boxes together. That will give the rest of us time to get more dirt and for me to help finish building the solar cookers like I promised.
Other than that some of the kids thought they saw Obits this morning, it was a good day. Galahad even sat with me at dinner, and Leila was civil to Paul, who can’t take his eyes off her. Poor Paul! He’s so in love and she’s so not interested.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days turned warmer and Cassie’s pool garden grew. Each morning she walked the rows, rejoicing in the green sprouts poking out of the soil. She and her dedicated gardeners devised a soil-building area where they added waste and worms, turning the soil as needed to prepare it for when the new boxes would be built, so there would be enough good soil to fill them.
She consulted her latest gardening bo
ok, trying not to worry that they were planting many of their seeds too late. Anything was better than nothing and they had to make the effort. The new solar cookers on the far side of the deck were an asset to their garden, since scraps from meal preparation could be added to the compost pile and used to enrich the soil.
Of all her plants, Cassie treasured her potted roses the most. Dug up from the zoo gardens and planted in plastic buckets along a patio railing, they were starting to bud again after Cassie had pruned them. She remembered the look of disgust on David’s face as he deposited a rosebush at her feet, saying, “This is so we can grow Vitamin C, got it? Chicks don’t get flowers from me.”
“Of course,” Cassie said, having heard from Leila what David would and wouldn't give.
Galahad had given her a rose bush too, its roots and bundled soil wrapped in a scrap of plaid flannel. “Feel free to enjoy mine when they bloom,” he said. “In fact, I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”
That plant had become her favorite. It was the first she checked on in the morning, it was the one that got extra coffee grounds or fertilizer when she had it to spare, and it was the last one she looked at before cleaning up for dinner, touching a leaf for luck before going inside.
But this morning, the carrots were of greater concern than the roses. Cassie drew some of the younger gardeners to the planters on the deck and tried to show them the difference between carrots and weeds. “We need to thin them out,” she said. “Otherwise there won’t be room for the carrots to grow big.”
Cassie looked up at the sound of footsteps on the wooden deck, but it was only Leila, her new earrings of silvered glass glittering in the morning sun. David wasn’t one to give gifts, but he occasionally allowed Leila access to foraged goods and she took them in trade to May for new jewelry. As always, though, Leila wanted more.
“I’m ready whenever you are.” She looked at the planter and the children crowded around it. “Shouldn’t they be practicing their reading or something?”