A. Colucci - Seeders

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.

She should have been worried about Sean, but instead she felt a sense of hope. We all take chances and learn from our mistakes . As he reached for each branch, she was rooting for him. You can do it, go as high as you want, my baby boy. You’ll be stronger than me and I’ll never have to worry about you.

Then she realized that she was stuck, and it was because of Sean and Luke that she could never leave her husband. She looked down at her hands and they were tied at the wrists with thorny vines, growing out of the park bench. Then her father appeared in front of her, wearing a white lab coat and holding a pair of hedge clippers.

“Shall I cut them?” he said, holding up the shears. He blocked Isabelle’s view of the tree. She tried to look around him, but her father snapped the blades of the clippers. “Hold out your hands.” The vines were tight around her wrists and she held them up to George.

Then there was a thud and the piercing cry of a child that stopped Isabelle’s heart.

Sean was sprawled on the ground, blood pooling at his head. She wanted to run to her son but the vines held fast.

George stood over Sean, shaking his head. He looked at Isabelle and smiled. “All better.”

Sean slowly rose to his feet, blood dripping down his face. “You wanted me to die.” His voice was small and childlike. “You were hoping I’d fall!”

Isabelle couldn’t speak. She stared in mute horror.

Sean was gone but somewhere he was singing. “ Went to bed, cracked my head, couldn’t get up in the morning…”

George was still smiling, waving. “There you go. Bye-bye.”

Isabelle awoke with a start, soaked in sweat and barely able to catch her breath. She held a hand to her heart and inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. In the quiet, a door clicked open in the hallway and footsteps padded down the stairs. Isabelle kicked off the covers.

She gazed over the railing at the first floor. All was still and she checked both ends of the hall. Sean’s door was open. Jules had the next room and his door was open too. She started down the stairs, gaining strength in her legs, and proceeded to the kitchen. From the window she could see the bobbing flashlight being carried down the path. Isabelle threw on her coat.

Outside, the air was blustery cold. It sharpened her senses but the wind burned her cheeks. There was just enough moonlight to make out the path and she stepped hastily across the pebbly ground, hoping she wouldn’t fall.

“Sean, wait!” The wind howled over her cries, and she had no idea if the figure was even her son. But the flashlight moved slowly and in no time she caught up to him. It was Sean and she heaved a sigh of relief. She reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Sean, come back to the house.”

He pulled free from her grip. Isabelle leapt quickly to block his path.

His eyes were vacant, a masked expression. He didn’t look at her, but straight ahead, over her shoulder, as if he couldn’t see her at all.

“Come back to the house,” she insisted louder. When she tugged his arm, Sean fell into a fit, fighting and squirming until they both fell on the ground. He bit her shoulder, but her coat was thick. Still, it hurt when his teeth clamped down.

“Ow! Stop it, Sean. Wake up!” she cried and shook him hard.

At once, Sean snapped to attention. He stared at his mother and then looked around, dazed. He started to whimper and Isabelle helped him to his feet. She rushed him back to the house, into the kitchen where it was warm.

She sat him down, still feeling the effects of the dream, her son’s tantrum, and the teeth marks on her skin.

“I’ve had enough of this island.” She flipped on the radio.

There was only static.

ISABELLE STOOD BY THE KITCHEN window sipping a steaming cup of coffee and watching the night sky turn into an orange sunrise. She’d barely slept all night. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked unkempt, pale with no makeup and her hair pulled back in a loose bun, wearing a navy sweater too large for her small frame.

At dawn, she’d gone to Jules’s empty bedroom and found his suitcase missing and his belongings gone. Her first thought was that a boat had arrived and it buoyed her spirits. She had hurried downstairs, but her heart fell when she saw Jules from the window, pushing a wheelbarrow full of lab equipment, blankets, and his suitcase down the path to the woods. He was moving out, but where? Perhaps he was making the campsite his new home.

It’s for the best, she thought, but felt a pang of loss. The house felt a little emptier.

She remembered the biscuits and went to the freezer, but they were gone. She sighed and walked back to the window, taking small sips of coffee. Jules was coming back up the path and she put the mug down. He was unshaven, disheveled, and seemed just plain dirty. Isabelle smoothed back a wisp of hair and felt an overwhelming urge to take a shower.

When he came through the door, he looked genuinely panicked, bug-eyed and rubbing a nervous hand over his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I made contact again. The trees in the woods.”

Isabelle exhaled, disgusted. At the same time she felt a twinge of fear. She considered telling him about the biscuits, that they were probably drugged, but reconsidered. Maybe it was better to humor him, until whatever drug was in his system wore off. “You had a bad dream. I’ve been having nightmares myself.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” His eye twitched. “They’re trying to send us a warning.”

She feigned an expression of interest. “I see. Warning about what?”

“Do you know what’s happening to trees all over the world? They’re dying .” Jules spewed on about climate change and deforestation, conversion and subsistence farming, logging and urbanization. His eyelids blinked rapidly, as though trying to keep up with his streaming thoughts.

“The trees told you all this?” Isabelle asked warily.

“No, they…” He bit his fingernail, his voice a whisper. “Words are useless things. I’ve seen the future, Isabelle. Brown and white with lots of blue. But no green. No life.”

“Jules, did you sleep last night?”

“We screwed up!” he shouted, frightening her. “The contract has been violated!”

Isabelle had a flashback of her father, when he came down with something . That’s what her mother would say. Strung out and hallucinating. This time she couldn’t hide in her room with a pillow over her head. It was best to play along.

“They’ve been reduced to nothing more than food for consumption, kindling for fires, lumber for houses. They’ve been cultivated and enslaved on millions of acres for the sole purpose of slaughter.” He spun around, pointing a menacing finger. “What if it were your children? Imagine a place where human bones are used to build shelter, flesh and blood to nourish offspring.”