A. Colucci - Seeders

Isabelle thought his behavior was becoming ridiculous; at the same time, deadly serious. She couldn’t run out the door. Her gaze shifted to a knife resting on the sink behind him.

“Jules, sit down.”

He didn’t move.

She forced eye contact. “Listen to me. I think you’re being drugged.”

“What?”

“Those biscuits you’ve been eating. I think they’re laced with some kind of drug.”

“That’s preposterous. I know what I heard. It’s a war .”

“Jules, please calm down.”

His voice softened. “The harmony is gone. Mutualism. Gone.”

“Jules?”

“Now we are the hunted.”

Isabelle looked at the knife again. If she could just get past him. As she eased by the stove, Jules stepped in her way. She panicked and grabbed the kettle, trying to sound casual. “I can make you some tea. You must be hungry.”

He leaned in to whisper. “I’ve discovered things about them. Sometimes they don’t know our thoughts from reality.” His eyes scanned the room, as if someone were watching, and he focused on her face again, keeping his voice low. “This morning I was looking at a wilted leaf under a microscope and I thought about watering it. At that precise moment, the leaf opened its stomata as though the image in my mind was real. So then I thought about harming the plant, to see how it would react.” He gestured surprise. “It cut me.”

The mood in the room grew dark.

Jules lifted his sleeve to show a bandage around his wrist. “It made me use a scissor.”

Isabelle gasped. “You cut yourself.”

“See what I’m trying to tell you?”

She carried the kettle toward the sink, but his hand reached out and clutched her arm. “Aren’t you interested in knowing what they want?”

“No. All I want is to get off this island.” She looked at the knife.

Jules followed her gaze. He went to the sink and picked up the knife. “Is this what you want?” he yelled and threw it across the floor.

Isabelle didn’t move until he stormed out of the room. She put her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes tight.

JULES ANGRILY PACED THE LABORATORY, hands clasped behind his back. He lurched forward and swept the papers off the desk. The chatter had started again, but Jules was tired of all the noise.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted.

The sound stopped and Jules stood perfectly still for a few moments, thinking about Isabelle and her claims that he was drugged. It was true, his personality was changing. Some of the things he said sounded like nonsense one minute and the next, perfectly rational. On the other hand, there was no denying the facts. The plants on the island were sending him messages. Yet, only he could hear them.

Why was I chosen?

It occurred to Jules that perhaps it was no coincidence that both he and George received the message. The true believers were always the first to know. He started to relax and once again felt strong and vibrant. He dropped to one knee and began picking up the papers.

“Dr. Beecher?”

He looked up to see Luke in the doorway. “Yes, what is it?”

“Well, um…”

“I’m quite busy.”

“Could I talk to you about something?”

He hesitated, but then waved the boy over. It seemed they were going to have another little chat. Jules sat down and dropped the papers on the desk, pulled up a chair beside him. He was calm, like his old self.

Luke slumped down in the seat. “I was wondering if you noticed the plants on the island doing anything… strange.”

“What do you mean strange ?”

“My mom said you’re studying them. That you think the plants are, um, different… I mean…”

“Get to the point, please.”

“Do the plants in the woods make you see things?”

“You mean like the body you found?”

“No. That was real.”

Jules looked more interested. “Did something in the woods frighten you?”

He nodded.

Jules leaned in. “Yes, Luke. I think they can make you see things. But I don’t believe they want to scare you, or hurt you. They’re simply trying to communicate.”

“That’s scientifically impossible.”

“I would have agreed with you last week. But it seems your grandfather has found a way to merge the thoughts of plants and humans, synchronizing the two frequencies. It has something to do with a fungus.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You mean that black fungus in the woods?”

“Yes. I think it helps them read our thoughts. Get into our heads.”

Luke looked skeptical.

“I’ve experienced it myself.”

“You have?

He nodded.

“Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so, unless you freak out and do something stupid.”

“Like jump off a cliff?”

Jules didn’t say anything.

“What do they want?”

“I believe they’ve been trying to connect with us, trying to send us a message.”

“What kind of message?”

“I don’t know, but I hope it’s something useful. Perhaps they want to warn us that we’re destroying the planet.”

Luke chuckled. “What I saw in the woods was not a message about climate change.”

“What was it?”

He shrugged, not keen to answer. “Can they see the future?”

“Possibly. There have been studies that show plants are prophetic, anticipating both negative and positive events.”

“So maybe they were trying to warn me about something that’s going to happen. So I can stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“I don’t know. Someone getting murdered.”

“Who’s getting murdered?”

“I don’t know.”

He snorted impatience. “Plants don’t care about anything but survival. Instinct is driving them the same way it drives animals.”

“Driving them to do what? Plants are supposed to like people. We grow them in fields and give them fertilizer and water.”

“Hogwash.” Jules snorted. “Our selfish endeavors have thrust plants into a massive artificial environment designed to satisfy our own needs. Humans grow what they want, where they want, when they want it. If we aren’t cutting plants into pieces, trampling them underfoot, we’re completely ignoring them without an ounce of respect. Why, you might be sitting on the carcass of a two-hundred-year-old elder.”

Luke shifted in his chair.

“Do you know what is happening to trees all over the world, how they’re disappearing?”

“You mean like sequoias?”

“I’m talking about half the pines in the Rockies disappearing. Ninety percent of West African forests have been wiped out, ninety-eight in Ethiopia. Rainforests are being flattened to grow palm oil for products, while the Amazon and ancient woods are being turned into grass for grazing animals, thanks to America’s obsession with hamburgers. In a hundred years, there won’t be a virgin forest on earth.” He slumped in his chair. “How could you understand? We’re causing climate change on a massive scale that will kill every living thing within the next two centuries. I know. I’ve seen it.”

Luke blinked helplessly. “So… what can we do?”

Jules rested his head back on the chair and looked down his nose at the boy, considering his potential. He was intelligent, no doubt, but could he be trusted with privileged information and was he worthy of inclusion? It appeared he had connected with the plants, after all, and he seemed open to progressive ideas. After a moment he thought, Why not? He might be useful .

“Do you really want to help?”

“Sure.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to work on your grandfather’s project with me.”

“Luke.” Isabelle stood in the doorway, sounding stiff and looking directly at her son. “I fixed you some breakfast in the kitchen. You need to—”