Life in the Land (2 page)

Mike’s eyes were large and imploring, and Bobby was so miserable at his lack of progress that he just wanted something to hold on to. He leaned forward and tentatively brushed his lips to Mike’s in the gentlest of kisses. With a soft sigh, Mike kissed back in the same chaste way.

There was a tremor beneath him, a mild shake that made his whole body vibrate. They sprang apart, both staring wide-eyed at the dirt as they tried to work out what could be causing the disturbance.

Bobby’s jaw dropped. Before his eyes two of the large roots pulled themselves free of the ground, clods of soil falling from the delicate rootlets as they reached out to him.

With an undignified yelp, Bobby fell backward and scrambled away, but a soft rumble from the oak made him stop. It was reassurance, a call for calm, and he knew then everything was okay.

He heard Mike gasp beside him. “Don’t worry, Mike. It’s fine.”

Bobby watched in fascination as the narrowed end of one root wrapped around his wrist and tugged him closer, the other circled around his head and stroked his hair. Mike had grabbed his arm and was trying to tug him away from the tree.

“No! It’s okay—trust me.”

Bobby let himself be pulled toward the trunk, the roots curling around his body in a firm embrace. Nestled next to the tree trunk, he swore he could hear drumming from its core. He laid his head against the bark and closed his eyes.

Every cell of the tree thrummed with the same pulse. Behind his eyelids, Bobby could see the microscopic world inside the tree. Layer upon layer of water-laden cells made up the trunk’s innards, all jostled together as a noisy factory of life. His mind climbed the trunk and followed the path as it diverged to the left and ran across the branches. The way ahead narrowed, and he arrived into an explosion of green, the leaves humming happily. Tiny explosions fizzed and crackled as the chloroplasts trilled and sang, busy converting water into energy using the meager rays of the weak morning sun. It was beautiful. He could barely breathe as he watched, mute in amazement.

The tree’s roots began to loosen their grip, and his eyelids fluttered open.

The world before him looked fresh and new. Every detail was vivid and clear, from the petals on the drooping dandelions to the spikes of the hawthorn hedges. His long fingers wormed their way into the soil that the oak’s roots had disrupted. Bobby could taste the goodness, the nitrates and the minerals tripping over his tongue. The tightness that had sat in his chest for weeks began to unwind, and a warmth spread through his veins, radiating out from his breastbone, down his arms, and through his fingers. Slowly, Bobby withdrew his hands from the soil, and he could hardly believe his own eyes as the lines on his palm began to glow, lit up in gold. He turned his hands over to see the same golden color swim under his fingernails.

“Bobby?” Mike looked thunderstruck, and Bobby couldn’t blame him. He held out his hands, and cautiously, Mike stepped forward, taking hold of one of Bobby’s hands and holding it tight. “You’re glowing.”

“I think I’m meant to.”

He found himself with an armful of an ecstatic Mike. “That’s amazing. I knew you’d get there.”

Bolder than before, Bobby kissed him, and Mike responded, their kiss inexperienced but filled with enthusiasm. As they parted, Bobby could see flickers of gold dance across Mike’s lips, and his heart swelled with happiness knowing he had left them there.

“Well then, Mr. Hero, show me what you can do!”

Euphoria engulfed him. Bobby grinned and laughed out loud. He grabbed Mike and dragged him over to a dandelion and pulled him down so they were both kneeling.

“Don’t get too excited. I’ve seen my dad do something similar, but I’m not sure if this will work.”

He cupped the yellow dandelion in his glowing hands; the soft petals and velvet stalk tickled him as he cradled it. Drawing on the warmth inside his belly, Bobby sent out a small cloud of golden sparks from his fingertips. The dandelion began to change: its little petals shuddered with excitement as the yellow flower burst like popcorn into a dandelion clock, its white fluffy crown ready to spread its seeds across the land. Delighted, Bobby blew gently across the flower, and the seeds with their parachutes glided into the air.

Mike whooped as the seeds flew, and Bobby grinned at him, thankful Mike had been there to witness him come into his powers.

“I want to try something,” Bobby said and reached out, snatching a seed from its flight.

“What?” asked Mike, and he sounded as eager as Bobby felt.

“Watch this.”

Bobby held the seed tight, buried in his fist. The seed trembled in his grasp as he fed it with a touch of the powers growing stronger inside him. Uncurling his fingers, a fresh young shoot wiggled out from the seed husk. Hearing Mike gasp, Bobby stroked it carefully, and it grew again, the seed giving birth to the start of a new flower. With a little more encouragement, the beginnings of a stalk wobbled precariously into view. It elongated in fits and starts and pushed out gangly, white roots from the bottom and arrow-headed leaves from the side. Bobby laughed with joy as the yellow head emerged. Initially encased in green, it sprang open to reveal a vibrant flower, each petal perfect in every way.

The tiny plant sat in his hand, and Bobby beamed at his creation. He held it up to Mike, who stroked one of the petals with a long finger and said, “Wow.”

Bobby placed the little flower down next to the roots of the oak tree and planted it securely, making sure the dandelion remained undamaged.

“You’re amazing,” said Mike in awe. “I knew you were special, but this….”

“It was you—I’m sure of it.”

Mike looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Bobby kissed him again. “You being here. I couldn’t have done this without you. Mike, I—”

“Don’t be silly.”

Bobby cupped Mike’s cheek. “Don’t you get it? I’ve been up here day after day for weeks. Then, you come up here with me, and you didn’t punch me when I kissed you—”

“Why would I punch you? I’ve been hinting forever that I liked you…. I thought you weren’t interested in me that way.”

“I didn’t realize.” Bobby smiled. “Months, Mike. I’ve been feeling like I’ve wanted to kiss you for
months
.”

“You idiot,” said Mike, more fond than annoyed. “How could you not know?”

Bobby toppled backward as Mike leaned against him, and he found himself underneath his smirking friend. “I still think you’re mad if you think I’m responsible for this,” said Mike, “but if you think I deserve a reward, I won’t argue.”

Another kiss, and this time, Bobby slid his hand under Mike’s T-shirt and stroked the warm skin he found. “Now that’s more like it,” said Mike, cheeks flushed once more.

No matter how good it felt to have Mike so close, Bobby knew he needed to get home. “I need to tell my dad. He’s been waiting for today for as long as I have.”

Mike groaned but rolled off. He helped Bobby to his feet. “Here’s probably not the best place to do this anyway—imagine if we got caught kissing by one of my brothers?”

As he stood, hand in hand with Mike, Bobby stared across the fields to the farmhouse, and swore he could hear the disgruntled moaning of the cabbages and the chattering of excited carrots. Even with the overcast weather, the farm looked bright and alive, filled with nature in all its glory. Every story his dad had told him raced through his mind, stories that, until now, had been nothing more than the abstract ideas of long-dead men and women, of impenetrable myths and legends. But now, as the energy of the land charged through him, Bobby could appreciate the legacy his family held.

“Come on, we’d better go.”

“Promise to come over to mine later?” asked Mike. “Maybe we can work out just what you’ll need me to do as your sidekick.”

“Definitely!”

They set off down the field toward the farmhouse. Bobby could only guess how he would use his powers in the future, but for now, he would be happy if all they ever did was keep the happy smile on Mike’s face.

T
HE
alarm clock’s insistent ringing couldn’t be ignored, and Robert flailed out an arm from under his duvet and silenced it with a barely aimed hit. Groaning, he dragged himself from the warmth of his bed and, shedding his pajama bottoms as he went, padded out of his bedroom and into the bathroom. His vision still bleary from his interrupted deep-sleep cycle, Robert fumbled with the sliding door of the shower and then swore loudly as he caught his toe on the shower’s tray while turning on the spray. Not the best start to the day.

Dressed in the black trousers and luminous orange T-shirt that was the garden center’s uniform, Robert made himself a cup of coffee, although he had to do without milk since what remained in the carton was well on its way to becoming yogurt. And the mold on the bread made his decision to skip breakfast all too easy. His journey to work passing in its usual haze of anonymous faces on the bus, Robert rested his head against the window but was careful not to close his eyes in case he nodded off to sleep and found himself at the end of the route. Last time that had happened, he’d received a warning from his manager, and she’d made it pretty clear that it wouldn’t take much more for her to give him his final marching orders. While the job was hardly the best in the city, it was the best he could hope for with only a handful of qualifications from school—none of them particularly impressive—and a performance record that didn’t have prospective employers vying for his talents.

The day was overcast, not dark enough to threaten rain but dense enough to spread a blanket of dullness across the day. Robert stared up at the gray sky as he got off the bus, and if he believed in the sentimental claptrap spouted by bad poets, he would have said it mirrored his mood beautifully. He walked around to the staff entrance of the garden center and punched in the code on the keypad to the left of a gate, waiting for the click of the lock before he pushed open the gate and entered the corridor to the staff-only area.

Robert nodded in the direction of Clive, a spindly teen with unfortunate acne who wore an expression that said the coffee he was gulping would not help how he felt but it was his best shot. He trudged past, stopping only to clock-in and check the schedule. Seeing he was assigned to restocking the greenhouses and getting the new delivery ready to display, he decided against a trip to his locker to dump his jacket, preferring to keep it with him.

The warehouse operated on a different shift schedule than the main store, so while Robert was just starting the day, others had been there for several hours, getting ready for the store to open. He nodded in the direction of two men heading out for a cigarette break, whose fat, short statures always reminded him of Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

“Just left you a pallet,” said Trev, who was midway through rolling a cigarette.

“What are they?”

Trev shrugged. “Flowers.”

Robert thanked him and managed not to roll his eyes as they walked away. He’d been disappointed, but had learned pretty quickly, that most people weren’t as interested in plants as he was.

A pallet of sorry-looking petunias was waiting for him. He grabbed the handle of the low loader connected to the pallet and dragged the flowers out of the warehouse and toward the glass-ceilinged annex of the garden center where the majority of the outdoor plants were kept. Stopping in the preparation area, which was nothing more than a small room with a deep sink and a number of hoses and a wooden bench, he ran his fingers over a flower. Its drooping petals made for a sad picture and one not likely to entice anyone to buy it. His inner powers stirred slightly, and he sensed the dryness of the petunia, as if the poor thing was desperate for a drink.

He buried his fingers in the dry soil, which crumbled as he delved into it. Apart from the lack of moisture, the soil was rich; he sensed the nitrates and phosphates and the goodness in the mulch that just needed some water as a carrier. Robert tutted as he withdrew his fingers, wiping his hand on his trousers. It was nothing that couldn’t be fixed, and he grabbed a hose and set the adapter to spray before pulling the trigger and watering the petunias. He heard their tiny sighs of pleasure and grinned as the flowers trembled happily.

Satisfied, Robert dragged the pallet into the main annex, where more of his colleagues were stacking shelves with compost bags and refilling the seed stands; he knew they weren’t hearing the welcome calls from the plants on display. A cluster of dwarf cherry trees wolf-whistled as he passed and the azaleas wished him a good morning with a friendly wave of their leaves. The scene was repeated by the other plants in the annex as he walked to the empty row of shelves where he would display the petunias. Robert smiled to himself at the warmth of the welcome; it never grew old, even though it happened every time he showed up for work, and the plants’ response to his presence made up for the minimum wage.

His shift flew by in a mix of plant maintenance and customer queries, including a confused woman who clearly couldn’t tell a rose from a geranium. He sent her away with a number of plants he thought would thrive in her mother’s hands, given a limited description of her mother’s garden and her green-fingered talents. Thankfully, his mobile phone stayed silent until he was in the locker room preparing to go home.

The ringtone was assigned specially—no need to check who was calling.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Suspected bank robbery at the Barclays on Meriwent Road.”

“I’m on my way.”

S
TEVEN
placed the bottle of beer in front of him. “There you go, Bobby.”

“Robert,” he automatically corrected, leaning around his uncle to see the TV screen in the corner of the bar. He winced as he watched the shot on goal go wide.

“How’s things going at the garden center? Still wearing that horrible orange T-shirt that makes you look bilious?”

Robert sighed. His uncle was always like this, even on days after a mission. It was as if he needed to talk about the mundane aspects of daily life, ignoring the incredible and the impossible, and focusing on the little boring bits that made up the lives of normal people.