Seeders: A Novel (20 page)

“It’s completely dark—and freezing outside. You can’t walk around now.”

“I have a flashlight. This can’t wait, Isabelle. I might be on the verge of an enormous breakthrough, your father’s discovery.” He put the phone in his pocket. “This is what he raved about for so many years and I believe he finally accomplished his lifelong dream.”

“If that’s true, then why did he kill himself?”

He was silent for a moment. “Perhaps he was driven mad.”

“By drugs?”

More silence. “By his own memories.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

Jules seemed to deflate right in front of her, his mind drifting with his gaze. “They probe deep within the subconscious. When it happened I could see everything, hear everything, as if I were going through it all over again. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“You’re scaring me, Jules.”

“I’m sorry.” He studied her face and chuckled self-consciously. “It does sound crazy. That’s why I need proof.” He rubbed his chin. “It’s getting blustery out there. I’d better go.” She didn’t have time to stop him. He moved swiftly across the room and out the door.

*   *   *

Jules stood in front of the shed feeling a strong wind at his back. As he slid open the heavy door, a gust blew him inside and he slammed the door shut.

It was quiet and smelled damp from rain.

He turned on the flashlight and the beam hit upon the wall of old farming tools: scythes, hatchets, rakes, and hoes. For a moment he stared at each object, and then he took an ax off the wall and felt its considerable weight in his hands. The wooden handle was old, marred with deep nicks and scratches, but the blade was sharp and clean. He left the shed, pulling the door shut, and headed down the path.

The beam of the flashlight crossed the path, side to side, illuminating the fields of ryegrass rolling in golden waves with each gust of wind. The ax was clenched tightly in his grip and his body trembled, partly from the cold but mostly from exhilaration. Jules was determined to prove his theory, and at the same time was frightened of what he might find. The wind was like razors across his cheeks and the tip of his nose was turning numb as he reached the entrance to the woods.

As he stepped inside the cavern of trees, it was so unexpectedly dark he feared the narrow beam of the flashlight would be insufficient to find the campsite. Indeed, it took over an hour, several wrong turns and doubling back in frustration. When he finally reached the clearing, he pivoted the flashlight across the fungus-covered ground and then up to the hedges of trees that circled him, finally stopping the beam on his target.

It was an old maple, sixty feet high and wide in girth.

He rested the flashlight on a folding table so it shined brightly on the tree and then propped the phone against it, making sure the camera lens was focused in the right spot. He pressed the video button and began recording. Soon he would have documentation of the experience. Something—anything—to show he wasn’t crazy.

Jules approached the tree with the ax firmly in his fist. Ignoring the tremble in his arms, he touched the bark lightly and stepped two paces back. He told himself to concentrate, just do the job and get on with it. He pulled the ax over his shoulder, and swung.

Thwack!

A massive pain ripped through his abdomen. Jules shrieked and fell to his knees, letting go of the ax and clutching his gut in agony. It was that same sensation of torn muscles and cracked bones. Billions of nerve endings burned like fire. He could almost feel blood flowing out of an enormous slit under his rib cage beneath his fingers, yards of loose intestines pouring onto the ground.

As quickly as it came, the pain disappeared.

Jules stayed frozen in place, panting and horrified. Then he curled up until he was able to move. He crawled to his knees, staring at the ax stuck in the tree, the seven-inch wound he had made to the trunk.

Jules was shattered by the pain and fear he had felt, but something even worse.
Betrayal
.

He gazed shamefully at the crowd of trees surrounding him.

My God, the implications!

Violent images swirled through his head. Fields of ryegrass blowing in the wind, thousands of fields, with plows running day and night. Blades slicing through stalks, millions crying out at once. A buzzing chainsaw cutting through forest, sawdust splattering the dirt like blood. A magnificent maple hitting the ground like a heavy corpse.

Jules raised his sweaty face. The mauled tree was more than he could bear and he grasped the ax handle and tugged the blade free. He threw it to the ground. He grabbed his phone and flashlight off the table, hugging them to his chest.

Then he was running. The flashlight shook in his hands and he crashed into one tree and then another, vines slapping his arms, rocks tripping his feet. The thick scent of pine smelled like blood in a butcher shop, assaulting his senses.

How they must feel, all these years. My God!

As he ran, frightening scenarios flashed in his mind. His own body buried in cement up to his knees, unable to move, while a demented figure, who looked remarkably like himself, swung an ax into his arms and legs, laughing and heedlessly slicing off pieces here and there. The thought shook his bones.

By the time Jules reached the house he was in a frenzy, and unable to go inside for fear of running into anyone. He stood on the patio trying to recall the feeling. Shock, fear, anger, and betrayal. He had made his first real connection. He knew what they felt.

So this is what it’s like to be tormented and betrayed by the very guardians sworn to protect you!

(Lather!)

The lies and deception, and oh! The loss of innocence with that first blow!

(Rinse!)

A sudden realization that humans are not here to protect, but only to kill! Over and over and over!

(Repeat! Repeat! Repeat!)

Jules pulled himself together. At least he had the proof he needed. His shaking hands fumbled with the phone, tapping the screen until the video started to play. There was a loud whistle of wind from the mic. The image was dark but clearly showed Jules stepping into the spotlight. He turned to look at the camera once and then back to the tree. He swung the ax. Then Jules was screaming and writhing on the ground, all alone by himself in the woods.

From watching the video, anyone would think he was insane.

Jules exhaled deeply. Only he understood just how sane he really was. It was the rest of the world that was crazy.

CHAPTER 20

LUKE HAD SHOWERED
and changed into pajamas, although it was only a few minutes past eight. Getting out of his clothes was a small but comforting gesture that meant he wasn’t going outside. The shower would hopefully revive his senses and put an end to the hallucinations.

Luke didn’t tell Isabelle what had happened in the woods. Lately he found his mother annoying and intrusive, yet at the same time she was still timid and weak, unable to stick up for herself. Besides, she already had one son who was
damaged,
as his father so often reminded them. But mostly he didn’t mention the incident to his mother because he wanted to forget about the woods and Ginny.

He quietly hoped Monica would knock on his door. Perhaps they could search the house again. Maybe they could start with his room. He checked under the bed for the bottle of wine he stole from the kitchen. He hoped she liked merlot, whatever that was. The mirror caught his eye and he stared at his reflection trying to decide—T-shirt on or off? He pulled off the shirt and flexed his pecs.

There was a knock on the door and his heart fluttered like a bird.

“Coming,” he said, and vaulted from the bed to the door.

Isabelle held out a bowl of potato soup. “You didn’t come down.”

“I’m not hungry.”

She looked at the room and noticed a couple of biscuits on his nightstand with a glass of water.

“May I come in for a minute? I want to talk to you.”

Luke opened the door wider, but frowned as she passed. Then he took a quick check of the hallway.

His mother sat on the edge of the bed and patted a spot beside her.

Luke rolled his eyes and sat in an overstuffed armchair. He put his shirt back on.

“Have you seen Monica?”

“No,” he said curtly.

“I went in her room and there was an empty bottle of vodka on the dresser.”

“Why are you snooping around in her stuff?”

“I wasn’t snooping. She left the door open and the bottle right out in the open.” She lifted her chin. “I’m responsible for her while she’s with us.”

“And you’re doing a great job with all the fun activities and dead bodies lying around.”

“That’s not fair, Luke. She’s sixteen years old.”

“So? It’s not like teenagers don’t drink sometimes. She was pretty shook up over that dead guy.” His voice dropped with his gaze. “Of course you’d never think of that. You’re too concerned with your kids being perfect. Perfect at school, perfect at home. Now you want to make her into one of your perfect robots too.”

“Luke, where is this coming from? I hope you aren’t picking up her disrespectful manner, and I certainly hope you aren’t drinking alcohol with this girl.”

Luke glared at her.

“Look, we can discuss my turning you into a robot later, as well as the drinking, but for now I’d like to know what you saw in the woods.”

His expression melted. “I … didn’t…”

“Ginny said you thought you saw her in the woods.”

“I don’t know what I saw. I mean, she was sitting on the ground right in front of me as sure as you’re sitting on that bed right now.”

“What was she doing on the ground?”

“She was digging. Her head was bleeding.”

“Bleeding? You mean like she fell?”

He hesitated, staring at the biscuit on the plate. “No, it was more like there was an ax in her head. A giant ax, sticking right out of her skull.”

Isabelle opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. She cleared her throat and finally said, “We’re getting out of here. I don’t know how, but Wednesday is too far off.”

He looked at her. “It’s those woods. They give me the creeps.”

“Dr. Beecher told me the same thing. He thinks something strange is going on.”

“Like what?”

“He’s not sure.”

“Maybe I should talk to him.”

“Please don’t, Luke. He doesn’t sound rational. He thinks the plants in the woods are, I don’t know, controlling his mind.”

“Did he say that?”

She swiped the air in frustration. “He believes George did something to the plants.”

“Did he?”

“Of course not. There’s an explanation to what you saw, but certainly not telepathic plants. I shouldn’t have even told you about it.”

“I’m glad you did. I don’t feel so weird.”

“I don’t want you near him. He’s acting odd, almost as if he’s on some drug.” She turned slightly pale and glanced at the biscuits on the plate. “Have you been eating those every day?”

“I think so.”

“So has Dr. Beecher, and Sean too. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. Who knows what’s in those biscuits if my father made them.”

He nodded, looking somewhat relieved. “That makes sense. I won’t eat any more.”

“We’ll throw them all out.”

“You still want to leave?”

She exhaled deeply. “I’m sure everyone is anxious to get out of here.”

“Not Monica, now that the diamond is worth fifty grand.”

“Ginny told me. It’s ridiculous. No amount of money is worth risking your sanity.”

“Monica’s had it hard. Fifty grand could change her life.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Money doesn’t change people.”

“Why do you do that?” he blurted out. “Make that face, like you don’t approve of her? She just needs a chance to straighten out.” He shook his head, disgusted. “She’s the nicest person I ever met. She really cares about me and listens to me and we have everything in common.
She’s my girlfriend
.”

For a moment, Isabelle was speechless. “I’d rather you keep your distance.”

“How can you be so judgmental?” he hollered. “You always said your mom was so horrible and mean, and we’re all supposed to feel sorry for you. Well, her mom is a prostitute. Give her a break.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Isabelle stood to leave, but paused at the door. Without turning around, she spoke quietly over her shoulder. “Are you two having sex?”

“
Jesus,
” he cried. “No!”

“Good night, Luke.”

Isabelle walked out and closed the door, hearing a glass hit the wall.

*   *   *

Isabelle sat rigid in bed. The tears were coming and she choked down sobs so no one would hear. The sound of Luke breaking a glass played in her head and she slid down the mattress, curling her body around the pillow.

What was happening?
All she wanted was to relive a few happy moments from her childhood and share a special place with her children. This was a nightmare that kept getting worse. Her father might have murdered a man and the corpse lay buried on the island. Luke practically hated her. Sean was angry too. There were too many problems to tackle at once, and for now she just wanted to sleep.

Never felt so tired in my life,
she thought, and it was true. Isabelle let her mind settle from the day’s events.

She started to doze, but got a sudden chill that made her shiver under the covers. It felt like a band was tightening around her head, and she shut her eyes because it seemed to help. Then things became strange. She had the sensation of something cold and delicate, like fingers, creeping across the front of her brain, actually
touching
her brain. The featherlight strokes made her relax and the weight of her worries melted away. She could feel it quickly probing several different areas, searching in quiet desperation.

Isabelle didn’t remember opening her eyes, but suddenly she was standing in a park on a warm sunny day. Vaguely, she remembered something bad had happened. That morning Colin had slapped her, and she touched the bruise on her cheek. Sean was climbing a tree, a small boy of six, and she tried to focus her mind only on him, but Colin’s angry face kept peeking through the cracks.