November Seed

by David Nadas

Jen asked, the pitch of her voice innocent.

  Cindi started to answer, ready to convince her daughter that no such thing was going to happen, but reached down and kissed her forehead. “Mommy and daddy love you and we will always be together. I promise.”

  “Will Oscar be with us too?”, asked Jen, her child-like eyes looking up at her mother. Cindi could not hold back the tears.

  “Yes, honey. Oscar too.” This comforted Jen, who closed her eyes as her mother smoothed out her hair. She looked so peaceful with the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest, so fragile. That’s when Cindi felt it, a slight bump on the back of her daughter’s scalp and she gasped.

  Ed rushed over and sat next to his wife and reached down gently, feeling around his daughter’s head beneath her hair.

  He stood up quickly and began to pace, then walked out toward the kitchen, the burden of guilt too much to endure. Dan sensed this and followed Ed out.

  “Ed, you can’t blame yourself for this. Be strong for Jen and Cindi. They need you now more than ever.”

  “Dan. I can’t. I can’t watch this happen. To Jen, Cindi, any of us!”

  “Ed. We’ll make sure she’s comfortable and we’ll stay with her.”

  Ed collected himself and returned to the family room and sat by his wife as Jen dozed.

  In a matter of hours, the bump had grown into the ornate Twig Dan and Matt had seen on every Internet page before the net went down for good. The Twigs seemed as unique as fingerprints, never two the same.

  When Jen awoke, she looked beyond the faces of her mother and father and sat up. Her head moved from side to side as if honing in on something, then standing, Jen headed toward the door. Cindi grabbed and held Jen in her arms, crying out in pain. Jen did not fight her mother but kept trying to look over her shoulder as if being called.

  “Oh God!” Cindi cried out, sobbing uncontrollably. “I won’t let her go! I can’t!”

  Laurie reached into the blanket chest and removed a quilt that her mother would drape over her as a child when she fell asleep on the couch. She placed it around Jen’s shoulders.

  Matt reached his arms gently around Cindi, resting his hands upon hers.

  “We have to let her go. We don’t know what happens if we stop her. We’ll stay with her, I promise, through it all. She will not be in any pain.”

  “I can’t let her go, Matt! I can’t!” She was on the verge of hysterics.

  “Matt’s right, Cindi," Ed said, stepping up. We can’t stop her, but we can all be together.” Ed grabbed some coats and blankets as Matt eased Cindi's arms away from her daughter.

  "No! No, no, no, I can't!" Cindi broke down as any mother would, having to watch their child surrender their life. She began to wail as Matt eased her away. Ed’s eyes were rimmed in red, but he seemed to have reached acceptance. Laurie and Asha surrounded Cindi and held her. Jen, now free, began to walk with purpose toward the door in her acorn slippers and quilt draped around her shoulders. The twig above her head, like a crown of thorns, guiding her beyond what anyone could see.

  Matt held the flashlight ahead of Jen while Dan cleared a path through the snow. She walked down the trail to the dock as if she were walking in her sleep. Ed and Cindi were behind Jen with Laurie and Asha following. Jen's face took on a vacant expression of calm as the procession led to the edge of the dock where Oscar lay still. The sliver of moon and the brightness of the Milky Way above were enough for all to see clearly. Jen approached Oscar and sat with her knees tucked beneath her side. Her final act was to reach out to the cleat and grip it tightly, as Cindi cried out, blind with tears. Jen raised her eyes toward the declination and was content.

  It was a peaceful scene filled with sadness. Cindi and Ed wanted to stay, so Matt and Dan pulled some Adirondack chairs from the boathouse and placed them beside Jen and Oscar. It was cold, but the air was still and the water took on a primordial calm. Not a ripple, not even the sound of loons in the night. All decided to stay, so Laurie and Asha went back to the house and collected sleeping bags and more blankets, while Matt and Dan pulled out two more double lounge chairs and a small mushroom heater, placing it near everyone, giving enough warmth to take the edge off the night.

  Matt awoke in the predawn light, wrapped warmly in his sleeping bag and blankets with Laurie at his side. The mushroom heater had extinguished and the chairs around him were empty.

  “Laurie.” Matt whispered into her ear and nudged her gently.

  She stirred. Then her eyes sprang open, the reality flooding into her. She was relieved to still be alive, that her husband was beside her.

  “Matt.” Laurie said. She yawned and placed her hand over her mouth and stretched out her legs in the sleeping bag.

  “Laurie. They're gone.”

  She pushed on her forearms to see the chairs. They were empty, and beyond them at the edge of the dock, were Cindi and Ed and Dan and Asha, aligned in pairs behind Oscar and Jen, side by side. She sank down with her head resting upon Matt’s chest.

  "Matt?"

  "Yeah."

  "What do you think happens?"

  "I don't know." Matt replied.

  "I'm afraid, Matt. I don't want to die like this."

  Matt did not have an answer for her. All he could do was squeeze his hold of her a little tighter. Laurie reached up with her fingers to twirl his hair, a habit of hers when they watched movies at home on the couch. Matt's eyes began to blur. He would miss that about her, about their life together. He never imagined not being with her and she felt the same. She reached around his head to pull him tight, and breathed in sharply.

  Matt placed his hand over hers. Slowly he edged along her fingers to his scalp where he felt a slight bump. He tilted his forehead down to hers and looked into her hazel eyes.

  "I'm sorry." Matt whispered.

  Laurie reached up with both hands around his neck and held him for a moment.

  "It's ok. I have one too." Laurie took his hand in hers and guided it to the back of her head. Her Twig was already an inch or two long. "I just didn’t have the courage to tell you."

  "Do we have to always do everything together?" Matt said, which got a sobbing laugh from Laurie. They kissed.

  "When the time comes," Laurie said, “promise me you will be with me."

  "You know I will." Matt said, the tears running down his cheeks. "I love you so much," and kissed her passionately.

  They sat bundled in blankets and watched the sun rise over the lake. Their hands clasped together. It was as if the entire Earth had stopped moving. No birds chirping. No breeze through the pines above them. No ripples on the lake. They seemed to be the last living things on Earth.

  "I can feel it, Matt," Laurie said calmly. "It's like seeing everything yet seeing nothing." Her speech was starting to slur. "I... l... lov... ew.... " And her grasp relaxed in Matt's hand. He had been watching her. The twig above her head was ornately branched and the early morning light was refracting through the crystals, giving it a life and beauty of its own. She sat up, still looking straight ahead and then swung her legs off the side of the chair, and stood. Her head moved slightly from side to side, fixing her bearing as Matt stood beside her. He was not sure she could hear him, but he said it anyway.

  "Laurie. I will never stop loving you."

  He stayed a few steps in front of her, moving the chairs out of her way. She stood briefly behind Asha, then kneeled down on the dock and placed her hands firmly along Asha's sides and looked up to the declination. She was gone. A shell.

  Matt took a blanket and draped it over his shoulders. He sat in a lotus position behind Dan, facing Laurie. It wasn't long before he felt what Laurie started to describe. A warming from within and no sense of the cold around him, then a tingling behind his eyes, and, not remembering when he crossed the threshold, he felt something. It was textural from all directions, without sight, sound, or smell. It was something else entirely, somet
hing infinite, the knowledge of others around him.

  Laurie?

  Yes Matt.

  Am I dreaming?

  No, Laurie streamed.

  We're moving, aren't we? Matt streamed. Through space and time.

  Yes. There are so many others; Laurie's thoughts streaming into his.

  Dan? Asha? Cindi? Ed? Jen? Oscar?

  Yes, streamed Laurie. Ahead of us.

  He could perceive the image of Earth, shrinking in size as they moved at great speeds away from it. There was something else, a sudden impact from a colossal asteroid sending out a seismic shockwave enveloping the entire planet, debris radiating into space, destruction on a global scale.

  Was that really happening? Did you see that, Laurie?

  Yes. We all did.

  Where are we going? Matt streamed.

  A place, far from here, she streamed, sharing images with Matt that had been shared with her.

  It's beautiful. Why? Matt streamed.

  In time, Laurie streamed. In time. We have much to learn from them.

  From the Author

  I hope you enjoyed reading this short novella as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would love to hear your feedback and will answer your questions, so please take the time to write a quick review and let me know what you thought. I am getting many requests to continue November Seed, so your reviews may make that happen sooner than later. Thank you again and I hope to keep your interest in future reads. You can keep up with what I am working on by visiting www.davidnadas.com

  Why I wrote November Seed:

  Growing up at the Jersey shore, I would run for hours along the estuaries in the tall thrush of Phragmites. I suppose it was the same for kids in the Midwest running through fields of corn. What I remember most about those times were the Phragmites plumes in late fall, when running through them left us covered in white. The seeds were everywhere: in our hair, mouths, and clinging to our clothes. As a student of Marine Biology at Stockton College in South Jersey, I began to appreciate the biology behind these remarkable plants. They are resilient to say the least, bothering few because they thrive in soil not suited for anything else. One day, my wife and I were driving through upstate NY, into the Adirondacks where this story ends, and all along the highways were patches of Phragmites in places I did not expect to see them growing. Now having read November Seed, you know what they are, and you will see; they are everywhere.