A. Colucci - Seeders

Isabelle and Luke both moved in closer, staying low behind the cover of brush. Both of them stared at Colin in anticipation of something about to happen.

Luke whispered, “Who’s gonna kill him?”

Isabelle looked at him shocked, and lowered the rifle.

“We need the boat.” He crawled closer to the edge of the woods.

Isabelle followed and nearly tripped over a leg. Captain Flannigan was lying on his side in the dirt. He was half covered with dried leaves and flies buzzed over the gaping black hole under his rib cage.

Luke took hold of the spear and tugged, letting out a small grunt. The barbed end came out with a squishing sound.

Isabelle looked wide-eyed at her son.

“I may need it,” he said matter-of-factly.

She turned her attention to Colin on the dock. He was investigating the pallets of plants stacked up to his waist when Sean approached the boat. His father greeted him with an awkward hug and pointed to the pallets, but Sean shrugged as if he’d never seen them before.

Isabelle felt her heart quicken when Colin grabbed Sean by the sleeve and inspected the side of his face. He must have been complaining about the fungus, thinking it was dirt. Then he noticed a knife in Sean’s belt and tried to take it away.

Sean dodged his grip and jumped onto the beach, casually sat down and threw sand in the water. Colin shook his head and set off down the trail toward the house.

Isabelle saw Jules slip from his hiding place and follow her husband. “You wait here,” she told Luke and set off to trail both men.

Colin trudged through the woods, disgusted with the snarled path, dodging fallen logs and swiping at low-hanging branches as though they were mosquitoes. The cumbersome shoulder bag kept snagging on vines and he had to continually switch sides. When he reached the fork he stopped, looking right and left, and then continuing along the red trail.

That’s when Jules broke away, heading into a thicket of brush and leaving Isabelle wondering what he was up to.

She stayed far enough behind Colin so he couldn’t hear her footfalls. It was strange; the emotions she expected upon seeing her husband never came. She trailed him with indifference and a driving curiosity as to what would happen to him, and the nauseating feeling that she would somehow be involved.

The woods ended and Colin faced a blue unbroken sky, fields of golden grass, and a house much grander than expected. He settled his hands firmly on his hips, smiling and nodding his head in astonishment, seeming pleased with the estate. Then he started up the path with a livelier spring in his step.

Isabelle could feel her mind wandering toward someplace dark and she fought to stay in control as her husband reached the patio. Something was prodding her to relax, and she gave in to the pressure for just a moment, shocked at a sudden urge to kill her husband.

Just shoot him with the rifle . She raised the crosshair to one eye. Then swiftly threw the weapon to the ground. Colin reached the house and stood in front of the gaping hole where the window to the library had shattered, scratching the back of his head. He turned around, looking suspiciously in every direction.

Isabelle ducked behind a tree and peeked out, as he stepped over the broken window into the house. She imagined Colin walking through the living room, calling her name. He would cross the main hallway and stop in front of the open door to the lab, where he’d find a chaotic mess of papers and a large word on the wall written in blood. Then he would run to the kitchen, yelling her name, and then back to the stairs, taking two or three steps at a time. She took a deep breath and waited. He should have found Monica’s body by now.

As if on cue, Colin stumbled from the house with an expression of terror, his gun drawn in the air. He crossed the patio and headed back down the path to the woods.

Isabelle felt a whack to the head and her knees hit the ground in a shock of pain. She saw a burst of stars and then nothing, black shadows flickering against bright white. Then she saw sky, and tried to blink away the blurriness.

Jules was standing over her, pointing the butt of the rifle at her head.

Luke watched the Coast Guardsman standing at the side of the boat, looking through a pair of binoculars. He was a tall man wearing a pressed white shirt and slacks, and a cap marked with the seal of a navigation officer. The officer was looking at the jetty where floating remains of a boat wreck had washed up on the rocks. A long bench cushion, a bright orange life vest, and a piece of the stern with the name Acadia .

The officer lowered his binoculars, squinting at the wreck, and then went back inside the bridge. Only his head was visible but it looked to Luke like he might be talking on the radio.

Then Sean jumped on deck, making the boat rock back and forth. The officer came around and spoke to him, moving quickly off the boat, onto the beach. Sean followed him around the inlet toward the jetty.

Then the boy stopped. He let out a grunt so loud Luke heard it clearly. So did the officer, who turned around, watching the boy stomp his foot in the sand and point a hard finger toward the path in the woods.

The officer continued down the beach.

Sean reached for his belt and pulled out the knife. He ran at the officer, who started to turn but was hit with a blow from behind. The knife went into his back with full force, both of Sean’s hands gripping the handle. The man hit the sand, writhing, and turned on his back. He struggled against the slash of the knife, Sean’s arms coming down again and again, but gradually lost the fight. His white uniform quickly took on shades of red.

Sean stood up, panting hard. He dropped the knife and stared for a while, looking scared. Then he whimpered and hit himself in the head.

Luke didn’t move. He felt paralyzed, and even more frightening was his pleasure that the man was dead. He moaned and curled up on a bed of pine needles. There were sounds all around him, a strange chattering he hadn’t noticed before, yet somehow he knew it was there all the time.

Let go, Luke.

He stared at the bright sky between the treetops and thought of George.

ISABELLE HELPLESSLY WATCHED Jules walk out of the woods toward Colin, who stopped in midsprint when he saw the crazed man with a rifle. He held up his pistol.

The rifle went off with a blast.

There was an enormous spray of blood and Colin screamed in agony from the bullet that cut through his arm. The gun dropped from his hand and he looked at his forearm dangling from the bone at an impossible angle. He screamed again and staggered off in a frantic run, darting left and right.

Jules casually took aim and shot Colin like a sprinting deer. He went down like a rag doll. Jules strolled over to the body to put another bullet in Colin’s head.

The gun clicked. The chamber was empty.

Jules turned and walked slowly back toward Isabelle. She was groggy from the blow to her head, but she wasn’t afraid. She could physically sense her feelings about Jules shifting, an animal attraction to him. She waited for him, feeling light and fearless.

An image of Luke entered her mind, as if he were reaching out to her. Soon she would be consumed; it was the only thing she knew for sure.

If only I could save my sons.

Visions of George flickered through her mind. Did he think about her before his death? Did he know she would come to the island? Was he trying to warn her?

The sun. If only she understood his message.

Jules’s words repeated in her ear.

Plants don’t know the difference between thoughts and reality .