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THE NEXT MORNING, SHE was woken at first light to help Joli haul water. The woman led her silently away from the camp. Coral, carrying two empty pitchers, tried to take in everything, the worn paths, the terrain, big rocks she might duck behind to hide. They passed the animals and came to a flat spot covered with ice, and Joli took up a four-foot long chunk of metal pipe—which could be used as a weapon during their escape, Coral thought—and smashed at the ice.
Water spilled out of the cracked spot. It was another natural spring. Something must keep it warm enough underground to keep it flowing. Were these mountains volcanic? Benjamin had said something about animals and springs. What was it? Right, that you might not want to drink what the animals did. “Is this safe?”
Joli smashed more ice then set the pipe aside. “We’ve been drinking it for years. It’s like fancy bottled water you people in the cities pay five dollars for.”
Coral had never paid five dollars for a bottle of water in her life. She watched as Joli smashed more ice, and then did as instructed and filled two pitchers. Joli had a pair of galvanized buckets. She filled those and they walked back to the center of the compound.
There was a fire going, and when Coral walked up with the water pitchers, Brynn told her to empty them into the same two big cast iron pots used last night. Coral stood shivering next to Polly, watching the pots until they finally began to steam. Polly hurried inside. Moments later, Ellie and Polly brought out big bowls of dry oatmeal, studded with raisins. Coral’s job was to scrape the mixture from the bowls into the pots and then watch over them, stirring the oatmeal as it cooked.
“There’s powdered milk in it,” said Ellie, who stayed to make sure Coral knew what to do, though a five-year-old kid could have handled the job. “For more protein.”
“You’ve planned well,” said Coral.
“And sunflower seeds to sprinkle on at the table. But we’re running low on sugar, so no more of that, I’m afraid. Or honey.”
“I’m hungry enough to eat anything.” Unsweetened oatmeal was fine. Her body craved the calories, and as the pots began to give off the musty odor of oatmeal, her stomach twisted, demanding to be filled. “I was trying to figure out how much you had stored away, trying to work out the calorie content, but I don’t know the calories in beans.”
“Pound of beans or rice per person per day, was what we base it on.”
“And you stored supplies for how long?”
“Six months.”
Coral was surprised Ellie was so forthcoming. “Getting close to that now.”
Ellie seemed unconcerned. “It’s enough food.”
“What happens at six months?”
“Tithing can tell you. He explains it better.”
“Okay,” said Coral. She didn’t really care, except she wanted to understand their beliefs—either to pretend to share them, to manipulate them, or to find some side of them that would let her convince them to let her and Benjamin move on, unharmed. Some Seeds surely had to blow away. Or Flowers had to pollinate, or — well, hell, she didn’t know, but if it won her freedom, she’d latch on to any possible rationale from their mythology to get free.
Again, the morning meal was eaten in shifts, men first, then women. As the day wore on and she was given more chores—always with a partner, so she couldn’t wander off and do any exploring on her own—she could see that there was a pretty strict gender segregation going on in the group.
Except for the married couples at night. She helped clean that cabin, along with Ellie. Blue tarps hung from the ceiling, turning the small cabin into four sections. One section was unused. As with the women’s cabin, there was little furniture beyond the cots and a couple crates that held clothing.
“You don’t have any books here, do you?” she asked Ellie. “I’ve been missing reading.”
“Not many,” said Ellie. “And nothing like a novel, if you were thinking of that.”
“I was.” She cleared her throat. “I was wondering about the sleeping arrangements, too.”
“Mmm?” Ellie dragged a cot away from the wall.
Coral swept the space she’d exposed. “I mean, here. You have three couples in the cabin, and no privacy. These tarps aren’t going to cut a bit of sound.”
“Oh.” Ellie smiled briefly, then her lips turned back down. “We don’t get bothered by things like that. Human sexuality is normal and, within the bond of marriage, healthy. When Indians ruled this land, they did the same thing. Family huts and all. It wasn’t an issue for them, and it’s not an issue for us.”
“Okay.” Coral wondered if she was creeped out about this meant that she was the weird one or they were. Well, they were weird, no doubt about that, but she knew Ellie was right about the last half of what she’d said. Probably for most of human history, privacy about sex was not a priority. But it wasn’t the year 800, and today, the communal marriage cabin, along with Tithing’s child bride, felt creepy to Coral.
“I’ve shocked you.”
Coral didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry if I did.”
“No, don’t be. None of my business anyway.”
“But you were curious.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Ellie thought about it. “No, it makes sense. Of course I don’t find myself curious about the way you lived before the Reaping.”
“No?” Coral watched her move another cot, swept beneath it, and watched her move it back. “How long have you lived here? With these people.”
“Since I was six.”
“And your parents? Are they here? Close by?”
“They joined in California. They’re still there. But when this group sprouted off, I came along.”
“You miss them?”
“We kept in touch. Until the Reaping.”
“Are they okay?”
“I don’t know. There’s been no contact with them since then.”
“I don’t know about my family, either,” said Coral. “I’m worried.”
“Tithing says there’s no reason to be,” said Ellie. She glanced over her shoulder.
To make sure she wasn’t overheard? “But you think there is?”
“It’s hard not to be. I’m weak sometimes.”
“You don’t seem weak to me,” Coral said
“You don’t know me very well. Being anxious is my controlling fault, as Tithing says.”
“Does he?” said Coral.
“Like anger is Pratt’s.”
“Yeah, my face can attest to that one.” She touched her still-sore jaw.
Ellie turned to her, concerned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Afraid, and pissed off at being a prisoner, but physically fine.”
“There’s no reason to be afraid. We’re nice people. And you’re our guest, not a prisoner.”
“You seem nice, Ellie,” said Coral. “But don’t fool yourself—I am your prisoner. And no matter what Tithing told you, you are not weak.”
Ellie frowned, said nothing in answer, and they finished cleaning the cabin in silence.
* * *
OVER THE NEXT TWENTY-four hours, Coral had no chance to talk to Benjamin, and though she worked in every building but the men’s cabin, she saw no weapons. They must be in with the men. If so, that meant Benjamin could get to them. She needed to coordinate with him when they would escape. Maybe he could grab a couple of rifles and improve their chances.
For now, her only weapon was the pocket knife. She’d had a moment alone in the cabin to check it. It was still hidden in Polly’s cot, and Coral thought it best to let it stay there. They might search her cot, upend it, shake out her sleeping bag, or maybe do a full-body search. But there’d be no reason to search Polly’s cot. Let the knife stay there until she had a solid escape plan.
They ate two meals a day, and the men took granola with them for a noon meal. She assumed they were out hunting every day, but they never came back with game. The men were probably getting a couple thousand calories, or twenty-five hundred, while the women got perhaps two-thirds of that. There was less protein than Coral had become used to, but it was enough food to keep them on their feet, and better than she and Benjamin had been doing most days. The food was always hot, which was a comfort in the frigid weather.
But food wasn’t enough to make Coral want to stay. The place was creepy, and the people were creepy. She didn’t trust them or their odd religion.
None of the cabins were heated, and they were always cold. The stones seemed to leach the cold back in—or the warmth out—and Coral missed the snug snow caves and the heat of Benjamin’s body merging with hers every night. The warmest she felt here was when bending over the cook fire to stir a pot.
She missed Benjamin at night, more than she could have guessed. It often felt as if one of her limbs was missing. Working around five other females at once in the kitchen didn’t replace the partnership she had with him. Polly, Mondra, and Ellie were friendly enough, but Joli never warmed up. Brynn treated her like a burden, or a necessary chore, outwardly stoic about taking it on, but with a long-suffering air underneath that. All in all, Coral preferred Joli’s outright rudeness to that. At least it was honest.
Coral was never left alone for more than a few seconds, and she had no doubt she was being watched all the time. She had to assume the same was true of Benjamin. By the end of the third night, she was revising her estimate of the time she’d need to escape. Was there a clock ticking, counting down the time she had left to reveal her—her “Seediness” or not—to Tithing? He hadn’t spoken to her directly, but she suspected Brynn was reporting to him.
The next morning, there was no breakfast. Polly slept in, and Brynn told Coral to sleep, or wait, whichever she preferred.
“For what?” Coral said, nervously.
“Just wait,” said Brynn.
When she was gone, Coral crept to the blanket doorway, pulled the blanket an inch away from the door frame, and peered out. There was no activity that she could see. She dared to stick her head out further and looked around.
No one.
The silence, the sense of anticipation, was spooking her. She stepped from the cabin and edged around the wall, sneaking a peek around the corner. Still no one. She edged to the other side of the cabin and looked the other way. The group’s one black man, Jim, was coming back from the direction of the outhouse, walking at a good clip. Coral drew her head back and went inside.
Polly was stirring. “Is it meeting yet?”
So that’s why the morning routine was off. “I don’t know. Is it usually this time?”
She yawned, hugely, and a cloud of vapor formed in front of her face. “Yeah. And I could sleep all day.”
“I know what you mean,” said Coral.
The girl stood and pulled her dress of the stone peg, took off her jacket, and slipped the dress over her head. They let her sleep in soft pants, men’s pajama bottoms, which Coral was glad to see. Coral’s own jeans were still on her legs under the burlap shift, not yet confiscated. She hoped they’d given in on that point.
Polly wiggled her pajama pants down from under the dress and pulled on an extra pair of socks. Then she straightened the blankets on her cot, shook out her pillow, and put it squarely at the head of the cot. She sat on the cot and yawned again.
“Stop. You’re making me yawn, too,” said Coral.
Polly gave her a tiny smile. “Sorry.”
“Where are your parents, Polly?”
“Farm in Nevada.”
Coral counted up the others she’d heard mentioned. “So there are four of them?”
“Oh, no, a hundred or so, all around the world. And people in mundane life, too, who can’t be on Farms yet. They earn money to help.” She frowned. “Or they did.”
“Really?” Coral wondered if the girl was exaggerating, or hopeful, or mistaken about the hundred Farms. Coral had certainly never heard of the cult. “In other countries?”
She said, “Belgium, Germany, Canada, New Zealand, Japan.” It sounded rote, as if she had memorized it.
Did that make it any more likely to be true? “And in the U.S.”
“We started here.”
“Is there a name for the—the organization?”
“The Seed,” Polly said. “We’re The Seed.” Brynn’s whistle blew, and Polly jumped up, motioning Coral to go ahead of her. “We can’t be late.”
The men were headed toward the cabin in a long single file, and the last couple was emerging from their cabin, Ellie and her husband. Twelve adult members, plus Polly, and the two prisoners. Coral hadn’t heard the name of Ellie’s husband, or two other of the men, because of the gender segregation.
She tried to maneuver herself closer to Benjamin, hoping to exchange at least a word or two with him, but Mondra split off and approached to wish her a good morning—or to block her path to Benjamin, Coral suspected. As she entered the cabin, she saw the dining table had been pushed to the back of the room. The chairs were lined up as for a church service. The men sat in them, and Brynn and Joli, the two oldest women, which perhaps conferred that privilege on them, sat on a pair of crates, pulled back from the male seating, leaving a space of four feet between the two groups. Polly, Ellie, and Mondra stood in back, and Mondra motioned Coral to stand by her. It was interesting that being married to Tithing didn’t afford Mondra any special seat.
“Welcome,” said Tithing, standing and facing them all. “Another happy day for us.”
“Good morning,” said a few of the congregants.
“We welcome our two special guests and hope our message of love and acceptance reaches their hearts.”
Jim thumped Benjamin on the shoulder. Coral could see Ellie and Mondra turn toward her and smile, and Alva turned all the way around in his chair and gave her a grin. She tried to smile back, but it felt pained and must have looked that way. She looked around herself and noticed, for the first time, a dream catcher on the left-hand wall. Her back must have been to it every time she had eaten a meal. Or maybe they had put it up for this meeting.
“The Reaping has begun,” intoned Tithing, something he’d obviously said many times before.
“And we are The Seed,” chanted everyone else.
“Our time has come,” said Tithing, still using the ritual voice. “And we rejoice.” Then his voice changed, to something more conversational. “The time may be upon us, but our task is not yet wholly done. Before we can be gathered, there are Seeds who need our help.”
Half the heads nodded.
“I’m pleased to tell you that we were able to contact the Oregon Farm this morning, and Melinda has had her baby. He’s healthy and strong.”
Murmurs all around.
“One more Flower has found its manifestation in human form.”
One of the men said, “All credit to the Sowers.”
More nods.
Okiedokie, thought Coral. I’m more confused than ever. But so far, it’s no scarier than they have been until now.
Tithing said, “But there are many more Flowers, and Grains, lost through accident in the Reaping. We must do our part to gather them, to allow the Sowers to fulfill their destiny. To allow us to fulfill ours.” He made eye contact with Coral.
Uh-oh. She braced for something bad.
But his gaze left her and swept the room again as he said. “If anyone wants to speak, please stand. And say your name, in case our visitors haven’t yet met you.”
A young man stood. “I’m Lorne, and I wanted to ask about the food. Even if one of our ladies quickens, we won’t have enough food to last us all until the birth. Unless one is...?” And he glanced back at the women.
Joli, Mondra, and Ellie all shook their heads. A collective sigh swept through the room: disappointment.
“I’m glad you mentioned that,” said Tithing. “I had planned to start sending out hunting parties. Benjamin, our guest, told me he had luck with hunting small game. We should hunt, too. It will extend our stores.” He looked at Coral. “And this lady has brought us fishing gear.”
Calex popped up. “You won’t allow her to go fishing? Why the nearest lake is—”
Tithing held up his hand. “Of course not. If she’s Seed, we wouldn’t risk her. But surely we men here can fish. It isn’t interstellar navigation, after all.”
A couple of chuckles came from the men.
One by one, another half-dozen people stood up. Most had practical questions or comments. The one that made Coral listen hardest said, “There’s something wrong with the battery for the radio. It isn’t holding a charge.”
“Pratt, will you look at it?”
“The battery is getting old. But I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s all we can ask of you.”
Only one person had a religious question. “Are there any signs of the final Reaping, Tithing? Have they seen any in Oregon, or heard of any?”
“They haven’t heard from British Columbia this week. And no one has been able to get through to California. The signs are small, still, but they are accumulating. We have some time, I think, but not all the time in this world. I believe less than a year.”
Coral had seen the suicides up in the mountain. She knew there were suicide cults. Was this one of them? There’d come a time, and Tithing or some other leader would decide it was their special time, and they’d arrange the poisoned punch party? For a second, she wondered if the suicide family they’d seen had been part of this group—but no, there was nothing overtly Christian about the Seed philosophy. She’d have to ask Benjamin, but she didn’t think they were quoting Revelation here.
They had to escape here. Before group suicide. Before Tithing decided they were not among the Elect or Select or Chosen or whatever the right term was. Before it dawned on the Seed that two scrawny visitors could extend their food stores an extra month.
Could she sneak out at night, meet Benjamin, get away? How to give him the message to meet? Could she hide herself off the path to the outhouse and waylay him? Not if Brynn were watching her. And she certainly couldn’t sit outside all night, hoping he might come down the path. Even if she didn’t get caught, she’d freeze out there.
She wished they’d worked out some sort of sign language months ago, in case this very sort of thing happened. But who knew—? Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp elbow to her side.
“Still with us, Coral?” Tithing asked. Most of the heads were turned to look at her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“So if the two of you will come with me to my cabin now. And the rest of you pair up as usual, and share your thoughts about the Sowers and the Reaping.”
Chairs and boxes scraped on the floor, and people moved to face each other in pairs. Tithing motioned Benjamin over, and headed toward the door. He looked at Coral, his eyebrows raised. Clearly, she was to follow him.
Maybe this was her chance to say something to Benjamin. She could whisper something, or squeeze his hand to let him know she was still herself, not a cult convert, and that they were still together in this.
But it was not to be. Tithing took her hand, wrapped it through the crook of his arm and said, “Go on ahead, Ben, into the couple-cabin.”
He patted her gloved hand. “How are things? Settling in?”
“I’m getting to know the place. And my jaw doesn’t hurt so bad.” She saw Benjamin’s step falter at that. “I’d like to volunteer to fish, though.”
Tithing chuckled. “You’re doing fine where you are. Maybe in a few months, that’ll be possible.”
In a few months, buddy, I won’t be anything to you but a vague memory. You won’t even remember my name.
“The sisters treating you well?”
“Fine,” she said. She racked her brain for something to say that would seem vague to him but tell Benjamin something important. “Brynn says she wants me to learn how to help with the animals this week.” The donkey and goats were kept a little ways off from the main compound. Maybe Benjamin could sneak out there and meet her. She knew he was listening.
Tithing said, “Good to hear,” and then to Benjamin, who had reached the cabin. “Go on, son, open the door.” Weird thing to say, “son”—Tithing wasn’t that much older than Benjamin, if at all.
The three of them walked into the empty quadrant of the cabin and Tithing motioned them to sit on the bare cot. He pulled over an empty crate, lit a candle and put it on the floor, and sat in front of them. His eyes never left them, or Coral would have taken the chance to reach over and touch Benjamin’s arm. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching Tithing, his features relaxed, his expression flat.
“I want to tell you both a story,” Tithing said. “Will you hear me out?”
Benjamin nodded, and Coral followed suit.
“Once upon a time,” he said, “There was a race of beings. They began their existence in a galaxy we call M-109. They discovered the secret of space travel—as we have. They discovered the secret of cloning and genetic manipulation—as we have. They also moved well beyond where we are now, and they discovered how to transfer a sentient mind from one body to another. And finally, they discovered how to take that sentient mind, separate it from the body, and achieve a new level of existence.
“They achieved the understanding, in this incorporeal form, of how the universe came to be, its age and its making. They could not find a way to leave this universe, not yet, but they found proof positive of the existence of others. And they wanted to make that trip, wanted it more than you or I have ever wanted anything in our short, miserable lives.
“They believed there was a solution to this, but the solution was to be found in experience. In experience gained, insight gained, while back in a body. But not their old bodies, necessarily. And not just any bodies. Special bodies, of many, many species, all over this galaxy and the Andromeda Galaxy and many others, species that have reached a point in their evolution that allow for a special perspective.
“There are brains that are not capable of this, even among the right species. There are brains that are. Those who possess these advanced brains...They are the carriers. They are The Seed.”
He glanced from one to the other. “Are you following?”
“Yes,” said Benjamin.
Coral nodded.
“In every of these species, there comes a time when these creatures have learned all they can. With humans, they learn of love, and loss, of regrets. Of strength and anger and weakness. Of greed and compassion. And the Sowers learn of our technologies, some of which are new to them, and which can be added to the whole of their grand knowledge. All in the service of inter-universal travel.”
He rose from the crate. Coral’s eyes followed him as he began to pace the small area.
“We are Seed. We are these alien beings, having a human experience in a human world. Our bodies are the conduits, the temporary repositories for these superior beings. We have been Selected, you see. And humanity’s time has come to an end—sooner, I confess, than I had guessed.”
He spun and pointed to Coral. “Are you Seed?” He pointed at Benjamin. “Are you?”
Was she supposed to answer?
But he didn’t want an answer. “That is part of my task, here. To decide. If you are, then you have found us for a reason.”
Technically, they’d been found, and she was not happy about it. When Tithing turned away for a moment in his pacing, she, quick as she could, elbowed Benjamin. He shook his head and kept watching Tithing.
Who turned toward them again. “Let me show you something.” He pushed through a tarp.
Coral turned and grabbed Benjamin’s jacket and turned him toward her. She stared at his face and mouthed, “Are you okay?”
He gave her a nod and mouthed back, “Are you?” When she nodded back, he mouthed. “Be careful.” They both faced front again, as Tithing swept back through the tarp. He was carrying a telescope, a small thing on a tripod, half the size of the rifle Benjamin had been carrying. He set it on the floor and it wobbled before it settled on the three spindly legs.
“We saw a sign. We knew the Reaping was coming. There were explosions on Mars.”
They could see details on Mars with that tiny thing? Coral doubted it, but what did she know?
“And we emailed and called the other Farms and wished them well. Then all of us, all Seed around the world, went into our caves and our bomb shelters and awaited what we knew was coming.” He sat down again and leaned forward, close to Coral. “And we survived.”
It was the first thing he’d said she could agree with.
“A weapon did this, an alien weapon from M-109, transported hundreds of thousands of light years, timed precisely in a trip begun long ago, when Homo sapiens had branched off from the apes. All those years ago, it was sent. Just this year, it was detonated. It is time to Reap the alien souls and send them on.” He smiled hugely. “It may even be time to finally cross the barrier and enter the next universe. That, I don’t know.”
But if he were a super-intelligent alien, why wouldn’t he know? Coral saw two dozen other logical holes in this fable, and she wondered why he couldn’t. Was he stupid? He didn’t seem stupid, though—just delusional.
“Here is our task, then. There were Seeds whose human forms were destroyed in the Reaping. The weapon is great, but not as selective as it might have been.”
Well, why the hell not? Seemed pretty sloppy of inter-dimensional super-beings to make something no better than a giant nuke and blast the good, the bad, and the indifferent all with the same force.
There was more from Tithing—much more. The lecture continued for long, tedious minutes. She followed some of it but her attention kept drifting away. More and more, as it got crazier and crazier, she felt the compulsion to work out a precise escape plan. Benjamin would have to be contacted. Night would be best. They’d need supplies. Her attention drifted back to hear Tithing say:
“The final Reaping needs to take place from the human form. So those Seeds that are now in spirit form must be put back into human form, and soon. Our women are precious to us. Every Grain—”
Coral jumped up, having belatedly gotten where this was headed. “Not me. No how, no way. You are not going to breed little aliens on me, buddy.”
