by David Nadas
SEED
Every November, in the northeast, when the air is crisp and strong gusts sweep against a quilted sky, Phragmites will jettison their seed in one spectacular and wondrous event that can easily be mistaken for the first snow flurries of the season. But their legions are on the move, quietly increasing their ranks.
November Seed
Copyright 2014 by David Nadas
The right of David Nadas to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted, without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
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November Seed
“Shit!” Matt said under his breath as he reached blindly into the dark, his fingers almost knocking the chirping phone from the nightstand. Swiping the screen cast a dim light into the bedroom and connected to a voice on the far end that spoke rapidly.
“Whoa!" Matt cut in, trying to rub the haze from his eyes. "Dan? Is that you?" He asked recognizing the voice.
"Of course it’s me! Who else would I be?"
Dan's alertness was pulling Matt from his sleep. "What time is it?”
“I don't know," Dan responded. “That’s not important right now.”
Laurie, Matt’s wife, began to stir at his side. She was half asleep with her cheek buried into the pillow, her voice sounding like the vocal fry of so many young girls these days.
"Who is that?"
Matt held the phone away from his ear but could still hear Dan's frantic voice.
“It's Jake. From State Farm."
"You're such an asshole," she half laughed. "It’s Dan, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Is he okay?"
"He's sounds frantic, but I think so. Go back to sleep,” he whispered, and returned the phone to his ear.
“Dan! I haven't been listening to a word you were saying. Slow down.” Matt sat up and draped his legs over the side of the bed where the crisp November air was dense at his feet. Laurie liked to sleep with the window cracked open, but on Matt’s side of the bed. The murderer’s side she called it, the side closest to the door. It was freezing, so he pulled the duvet cover up along his shoulders and squinted his eyes, finally able to see the time on his phone.
“It’s three in the morning Dan! This can’t wait a few hours?”
“Matt, you need to get to the President of the United States!” Dan shouted into the phone.
Laurie rose up on her elbows. “Is it really three o’clock?”
Matt pushed the phone into his lap to muffle the volume.
“Yes, but try and go back to sleep. If it’s important, I’ll wake you.” Content, she sank beneath the covers with only a tuft of blond hair poking out.
“Dan! Dan!” Matt's harsh whisper silencing him for the moment. “You woke Laurie.”
“Tell Laurie I'm sorry, but you need to get to the President, Matt! We don’t have much time. I checked the weather; we have a day, two at best. It might already be too late.“
“Too late for what? What are you talking about? I don't think being a field manager qualifies me to get in touch with the President of the United States. Are you stoned?”
“Matt! The Phragmites!” Dan shouted through the phone.
“Oh Christ,” Matt yawned. "You woke me at three in the morning to tell me about your alien invasion? Dan, it was funny two nights ago and you almost had me there," Matt whispered, cupping his hand around the phone. "But we were both stoned and it’s not funny right now.”
“No, no, no. It’s not what I originally thought! It’s different. I've got new data. It's more than--” Dan managed to say before Matt swiped the phone, disconnecting the call. He sat there, shaking his head in disbelief, then threw the phone back onto the nightstand, his jellyfish screen saver rippling a dull green throughout the room. Matt plucked his feet from the cold and slid them beneath the crisp cotton sheets; his eyes were wide open, his head resting on the palms of his hands behind him. He almost started to laugh. Two nights ago, Dan pulled out a vaporizer and some Mango Krush— “medicinal”, Dan contended and began to spin his hypothesis that Phragmites was not brought to the US from Europe, as early botanists had thought, but was an aggressive alien species spreading along brackish waters of every shoreline in the Northern and Southern hemispheres, working its way inland. Dan's basis was that Phragmites was seeded by a distantly traveled probe terraforming Earth ahead of an invading entity.
Matt's phone began to chirp, and the trill of the MP3 told him it was Dan calling back. Groaning, he sprang up in time to answer on the second loop.
"Dan! I’m up now. So is Laurie. I am going to get dressed and will be there in half an hour. Have some fresh coffee for me--I mean that!" He ended the call before Dan could say another word.
Laurie was sitting with her knees drawn up under the covers. There was concern in her voice. "Is it serious?"
Matt’s chuckle eased her concern. "I can’t think of the last time Fish & Wildlife of South Jersey was ever serious, but when he gets excited like this, my phone will keep ringing. I promise to call you if it’s anything to worry about. Now please, go back to sleep. No reason both of us need to be up right now,” he said through a yawn. “You still have four hours, so enjoy it." He leaned over and placed his dry lips against hers. She purred and slid beneath the covers then peeked back at him with a smile, his screen saver shutting off, plunging them both into darkness. Sliding once more to the edge of the bed, he threw back the duvet and placed his feet onto the floorboards. They were cold. He rushed toward the bathroom, his naked body in full isometrics, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Colder still were the bathroom tiles as he flipped on the light switch expecting to see his breath.
Matt and his wife Laurie lived in a bungalow on the south end of Ocean City, NJ, where the view every morning of Corson's Inlet was a welcome site. But the night's freezing rain, like a heavy tablecloth, had weighted the bayberry branches to the ground and the sound of frozen sand crunching beneath his feet made for an unwelcome walk to his truck. It took some effort to open the frozen door and then start the engine before getting on his way. Backing out of his driveway he drove up West Avenue, hunched forward with knots in his back and the cold air from the vents stabbing at him, but grateful the traffic lights were in winter mode, giving him a clear run without having to stop every hundred yards. Ten minutes later he was merging onto the Parkway North. There were no taillights to follow and no headlights approaching from the southbound lanes. The temperature outside of his vintage Land Rover was 21 degrees, while the heater inside continued to blow cool air and the frost from his breath fogged the windshield. Even the sign for Exit 29 seemed a wish for the day's high as he veered off and followed the ramp, the left blinker dimming as he slowed. He stopped, looked both ways and felt the solitude before turning left onto May's Landing Road. A few minutes later he arrived at Somerset Cove Marina where a sign hung on rusted chains, stenciled with NJ Fish & Wildlife, Tuckahoe Branch Lab. Matt turned right onto the gravel road, the tires picking up anything they could to assault th
e wheel wells.
Dan could see Matt heading toward the lab as the headlights from his truck bounced along the ruts and potholes.
When Matt pulled into the lab parking lot, Dan yanked open the passenger side door and jumped in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and his sparse facial hair giving him a Fu Manchu look.
"Dude! You look like shit." Matt remarked.
Matt, it’s incredible. You have to see this!”
“Can we get out of the truck? I'm freezing."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Dan said, nodding with thought as he bolted from the passenger side, leaving the door open for the cold to take his place. Dan was back in the lab before Matt could turn off the key and wait for the engine to cough out a few misfires in protest. He grabbed his pack, circled the truck to shut the passenger door and climbed the stairs. He was glad to see Dan had stacked some wood outside the door and could smell the burning oak in the air. Inside was paradise; the wood stove glowing in the corner next to the tattered leather couch he often studied on and the smell of freshly ground coffee was worth the early ride in.
"Fresh ground Sumatra, half & half poured first, coffee second, right?" Dan recited, handing Matt his first cup. Guilt quickly set in as Matt put things in perspective. He would never want another partner or be in need of a better friend.