Seeders: A Novel (23 page)

Jules slumped in the chair, holding his head in his hands.

“What can I do? Tell me how to help you.”

“They want…” He struggled to speak but the words didn’t come. He reached for a pencil but his hands were shaking, so Isabelle pushed it toward him with writing paper. He scribbled fast, before he could stop himself.

Isabelle looked down at a shaky drawing of the earth with arrows pointing down and some illegible writing above, but before she could take in the drawing and its meaning, Jules scribbled over it, as if he’d changed his mind, or perhaps his hand had a mind of its own.

“I don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

He wrote the words,
Go home
.

“We can’t leave the island without a boat.”

His pencil scribbled,
Kumbaya.

“The song?”

It seemed like writing was getting harder and the pencil shook as if he were fighting against his own fingers. He strained to scribble the words,
Try it.

“Try what?”

Jules smacked his head and bolted from the chair, half stumbling around the room shouting, “Try it, you’ll like it! Try it, you’ll like it!”

Isabelle stepped back in fright.

He was gaining his strength back, but was still disoriented and dropped to one knee, grasping a table for support.

“Jules, listen to me. You’re sick, something is making you sick.”

Slowly he rose with a scowl, pointing a finger. “That’s what they told Mother. You want to put me away?” He started swaying back and forth like a gorilla.

“No, I want you to feel better.”

“I have work to do,” he shouted, looking drunk. “Important work! You can’t stop me. They said you’d try to stop me.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” she pleaded. “You said so yourself, Jules. They’re controlling your mind. Something is happening with these plants. That growth, that fungus, it’s like some awful drug.”

“There are no drugs!” he bellowed.

Before she could back away, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her like before.

“Stop it, please. You’re hurting me.”

Jules realized what he was doing and let go. He staggered across the room and left quickly out the door and across the patio.

Isabelle ran to the door and fell against it. Several minutes passed before she had the courage to move. She wrung her hands together but it barely kept them from shaking. There had to be another way to get off the island, and she gazed over the room.

The green notebook was lying on the desk.
The Eden Project
. She greedily flipped through the pages. There were numbered columns with long lists of plant species. Instructions on filling plastic bags with the proper mixture of soil, nutrients, and water.

Fill pallets with species that require similar care.

Label pallets with place of destination.

She flipped through the pages and found a crudely drawn world map. Red lines showed the route to be taken for a journey by land and sea. It was an ambitious voyage, encompassing all seven continents. It seemed as if George was planning a trip, and he wanted to take the plants with him. There were more planting instructions on the next pages.

SEEDERS must be planted a good distance from human habitation.

SEEDERS may be planted individually or in clusters three feet apart. For best results, only healthy specimens should be used.

SEEDERS are not to be moved or transported under any circumstances while rooting is in progress. Rooting may take one to three years.

Seeders,
she thought, of course. Then she realized how deep her father had fallen. George believed the plants on the island were controlling his mind, forcing him to transport them across the globe so the fungus would infect the world’s food supply. George was going to seed the world with plants that would make people crazy.

CHAPTER 24

“I’M GOING CRAZY
in this house!”

Monica threw a pillow at the bedroom window. Luke stepped back just in time, and then continued monitoring the coast. Monica’s bedroom had the best view of the mainland. He looked over the treetops to the flat sea: not a single boat.

“I’m so bored,” she said.

For three days there had been little to do and cabin fever had set in. Even kissing had lost some excitement, especially for Luke, who was aching to go farther. But his mother seemed to always show up. It was like she had make-out radar. Then she would order them to read books or search through boxes in the attic. Luke had become quite adept at kissing, and he practiced self-control of his body with utmost seriousness. He wanted to be alone with Monica as much as she wanted to get out of the house.

“So let’s leave,” he told her. “Go to the beach or something.”

“Really? You’re not scared to go out there?”

He squinted in thought. “Whatever I saw out there wasn’t real. You can’t be scared of something that’s not real. I’m pretty sure my mom is right about the biscuits and I haven’t eaten any in days so I’m probably okay now.”

“Finally you’re making sense. Where should we go?”

“The beach. We can bring the wet suits and snorkels. Check out that sunken boat.”

She grabbed her coat and declared, “
Foutons le camp.
”

“What?”

“Let’s freakin’ go already.”

There was a collection of flashlights in a kitchen drawer, none of them waterproof. So Luke sealed one in a Ziplock bag. The next stop was the shed, to pick up the snorkel gear.

Luke rolled open the door and they both stared wide-eyed at an empty wall. All the tools were gone, missing from their hooks, leaving a faded outline where they had been suspended to a peg board.

The only items still left were a small knife, a pair of cutting shears, and a crossbow.

“Maybe my mom took the rest. She’s so paranoid about Dr. Beecher.”

“What if she didn’t take them? What if he did?”

“Whoa,” he said and picked up the crossbow. “Sweet.”

“You know how to use that thing?”

“I’ll figure it out.” He inspected the weapon. “Bolt goes here. Pull this doohickey back. Trigger goes like this and
bam
.”

“We came for the snorkel stuff, right?”

He put down the bow and started putting all the snorkel gear in a trash bag. They stepped outside into the sun and started down the path to the woods.

“Maybe I should go back and get that crossbow,” he said.

“I’ll kick his ass if he tries to attack us,” she said smugly. They reached the entrance to the woods. “He’s British, for God sake. They don’t even have wrestling or football. Hell, even you could take him down if you tried.”

“Thanks.” He took her hand and they walked in silence most of the way. Luke wished he could think of something to say to take his mind off the creepiness of the woods. When they reached the fork, he took a quick glance down the trail where Ginny got the ax. He started whistling to break the silence.

There was the sound of someone coughing to their right, and they paused.

“Don’t stop,” Monica said, looking frightened.

“Hold on.” He squinted between the trees and saw Jules squatting on a rock, blending in with a pallet of earth tones. Luke almost didn’t recognize him at first. Jules wore only gray underwear, his face was hairy, and his body was caked with mud.

“What should we do?” Monica whispered.

“Just keep walking. He isn’t doing anything.”

They moved on.

“Your mom’s right. He’s insane.”

“Too bad. He seemed like a real smart guy.”

They reached the beach and broke into a run across the sand like children discovering their freedom for the first time. The sheer openness of both sky and sea gave the illusion of a safe harbor. While the house and woods were claustrophobic, the ocean was infinite.

After a moment, they sat down on the sand and looked at the horizon.

Monica squinted at the mast sticking out of the water. “You still want to do this?”

Luke laid the equipment on the sand. “We could hang out on the beach and make out.”

She ignored the comment, rising to her feet and brushing off the sand. “Let’s go.”

They followed the inlet until the coast became rocky. The jetty stretched twenty meters into the sea. Luke helped Monica over the gaps where plumes of water spouted between the flat stones. At last, they reached the sunken boat and could see the mast clearly. It was low tide and a large section of pole stuck out of the surface.

They took off layers of clothing down to their underwear. They shivered and rushed to get into the wet suits. Luke had trouble squeezing into the tight rubber material and became acutely aware that his body had grown tall and muscular.

He could see Monica watching him, and he flexed his muscles getting into the suit.

She smiled at him. “You sure this is gonna keep us warm?”

He nodded and checked her seal. Then he crouched down on the rock and slid off the jetty, wading up to his knees and holding tight to the flashlight. The water had a greenish glow and it was clear enough to see his flippers on the sandy bottom. Luke helped Monica into the water and explained how to use the snorkel. She tried the mask, getting used to the feel of it. The flippers were more difficult but she slowly caught on.

Luke kept one eye on the woods that bordered the inlet, looking for moving shadows. He half expected Jules to come charging out of the trees and down the sand with a spear in hand, but after a while he got caught up in teaching Monica how to breathe through the snorkel.

A few feet out, the sea floor took a sudden drop into the abyss. They started swimming toward the pole. The waves were mercifully small and they couldn’t feel the cold, except on their hands and feet. There was a riptide and Luke showed Monica how to swim sideways. He could feel the pull of the current, beckoning toward the cliffs where waves crashed violently against the rocks. It was easy to see how a boat leaving the inlet might get swept up in the current and smash into pieces.

They reached the metal pole and grabbed on with both hands. Luke slid his mask over his face. Monica was shivering, from both nerves and cold. It seemed like they were miles from the beach.

“You ready?” Luke asked. When she nodded, he stuck his face into the water and looked around. It was murky, but the sun was so bright it made the water iridescent blue. He could see the boat clearly at the bottom, lying slightly on its side. The hull was longer than expected, maybe eighteen meters. It seemed to be suspended in time.

The mast was bent in the middle and sticking straight up.

Luke took his face out of the water as Monica did a dolphin roll and tumbled into the depths. He took a long breath and dove under too, following the mast down eight meters to the boat. There was a gash in the hull the size of a football and Luke figured she hit a rock and sank. He swam along the stern until it disappeared into a bed of kelp, long yellow streamers that swayed with the current and tickled his ankles. He grasped the rail of the boat and used it to pull himself to the open cabin, looking around for Monica, but she wasn’t in sight. He raised his head and saw her swimming to the surface, so he pumped his flippers after her.

They emerged together, Monica gasping and holding on to the mast.

Luke took her arm, sounding worried. “You okay? What happened?”

She laughed and coughed at the same time. “That was awesome. I just needed air. Let’s go back down.”

Before he could speak, she popped the snorkel back in her mouth and was diving again. He followed her, swimming quickly. She was already sticking her head inside the cabin, her black ponytail floating straight up. Luke didn’t think she should go first so he tugged her arm and turned on the flashlight. She nodded and let him pass.

He swam inside. There were only dim shadows and the beam of the light, swaying side to side. He grasped a countertop covered in algae that felt mushy and cold. The cabin was not unusual, and there were plenty of things to explore. It occurred to him there could be an eel or a shark making the boat its home and he pivoted the flashlight around, reminding himself that most deadly things prefer warm water.

The light fell on an accordion-style closet. When he tried to slide it open, the door stuck. He pushed hard, stirring up silt and algae. It opened a few inches and empty plastic sandwich bags floated around like jellyfish.

Luke realized his lungs were starting to ache. He’d been under about three minutes and he knew he could hold his breath for four, so he headed for the exit. Monica was gone. He could see her legs kicking gracefully toward the surface. He headed up, feeling dizzy and letting the rest of his breath blow out in tiny bubbles. He reached the surface and drew in a big breath of air. He coughed and spit in the water.

“I found something cool. Come back down.”

Monica was still panting. She was a strong swimmer but not used to ocean depths. “I’m gonna stay here a minute.”

Luke nodded and dove once more straight for the cabin. He swam to the closet, holding the light to the opening, tugging as hard as he could. There was something on the floor of the closet blocking the door. He reached inside and felt a slimy object, pulled it out. The beam of light fell on a box made of wood, hand-carved in exquisite detail. The wood was splintering and turning black along the edges and there was algae on the lid. Luke wiped it with his hand, revealing a geometric pattern of roses and vines. In the center was a large star, stained brighter than the rest of the box and tinted pink.

His heart kicked up as he thought of the Crimson Star. The box was locked and there was a place for a key. Luke stuck it under his arm and swam quickly out of the cabin.

The wood was slick and the box slid from his grasp. He tried to retrieve it with one hand as it fell, and a splinter pierced his finger. He reflexively pulled back, watching the box float down into the reeds. Luke felt his lungs begging for air and the pressure of thirty feet made them ache. Still, he didn’t want to risk losing the box. It floated into a bed of kelp but he soon discovered the reeds were as tall as him, a swaying jungle that swallowed his treasure. His lungs were giving out, so he somersaulted and kicked upward toward the surface.