5 Seeking H.J. Jiminez

Lily

 

I pulled up a detailed map of Plant City and the surrounding area. It appeared that H.J. Jiminez, a Seed Saver, lived a couple of kilometers north of downtown. Though scorching hot I didn ’ t figure I had a choice—I would attempt to get there on foot. I desperately wanted to confer with others in the Movement, people from other cities and states , find out what was happening. Maybe hear more reliable information about my father. Oh why had Clare and Dante left me? It ’ s true being an only child had given me the necessary skills of being a loner, but that didn ’ t mean I always enjoyed being alone. Sometimes you want someone to share in your adventures.

After acquiring the information I needed from the Monitor, I continued exploring the library. Besides the basement, it had a main floor and an upstairs. The top floor, of course, was piping hot, but there wasn ’ t much of interest up there, anyway. On the main floor I found a nice restroom and took the opportunity to reapply my sunscreen—among other things. Then I headed to the reference section to see if gardens still existed in Plant City. I kind of figured—given the name—there might be something.

As it turns out, Plant City had nothing to do with plants but was named after some guy responsible for getting the railroad in town . However, I did find something interesting. Whenever I got to a section for agriculture, horticulture, or gardening, a neatly typed note referred me to the information desk. At the desk, I found a large cupboard, padlocked. Checking the lock, I discovered it wasn ’ t actually locked—someone was either lazy or not overly concerned. I carefully removed the lock, looked over my shoulder, perked up my ears, then feeling quite alone, carefully opened the doors. I gasped. So many books! Home gardening books, seed saving books, old-fashioned cookbooks like the ones Ana had given us, books on canning, freezing, and drying food. I felt like hugging the old cupboard but reached for the largest books instead, the ones filled with pictures.

Slowly I turned each page as if it might evaporate before me. Pictures of fabulous gardens opened and unfolded. To think these masterpieces of nature and human endeavor existed in people ’ s back yards and not just in reserves or parks! It was almost impossible to believe. My personal favorites, of course, were the vegetable gardens—so long gone. I thought of Arturo ’ s yard, how that first day I saw only junk and chaos, and how later my vision was transformed to see the beauty. I ’ m not sure how long I sat there poring over the books, but voices brought me to a swift stop. Was someone coming in? I scrambled to put the books back—no time to get them in order. I crouched low behind the reference desk and held my breath. Someone pushed against the door, tried the lever. More talking, knocking on the door. But it didn ’ t open, and eventually the voices faded as I waited, not daring to breathe. Someone like me, I thought , breathing again. Hoping maybe to check out a book.

My growling stomach reminded me of the passing time. I ’ d had just a bite for breakfast and now it was almost noon. The books put away, I figured I might as well retreat to the cool basement. I found a spot near my entrance and took out the food I ’ d purchased on the bus. I ate sparingly and filled up on water from the bathroom faucet.

At times, when I wasn ’ t worried about the craziness of this whole escapade, I felt the rush of the adventure. Like any good writer—and I did see myself that wa y — I ’ d read a fair number of adventure books and liked to think of myself as a character in an exciting story, never knowing what was coming next. Though I ’ ll admit, sometimes I wanted to know . You know, peek ahead some.

At last I was ready to continue on. Getting up out of the basement proved harder than getting down, but it wasn ’ t impossible. Soon, I was back in the heat and on my way to find H. J. Jiminez. I ’ d copied the map and address onto a sheet from my notebook, which I now held in my hand. Clare, Dante, and I had made a point of learning about maps and how to read them after Ana had given us the one to her place. None of us owned mini-Monitors or tech maps, and we thought it exciting, if not useful, to learn the time-honored skill of map reading. I figured it would take a few hours to find this place and hoped I didn ’ t faint from the heat before then.

The hat I wore protected me from the sun ’ s glare, but after a while I noticed the glare was gone. Dark clouds hovered in the sky, obliterating the sun. “ You ’ ve got to be kidding! ” I said right out loud. “ Rainy season? ” Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew something about places having rainy seasons. Come to think of it, I remembered yesterday at about this time, the torrent hitting our bus as we sped down the highway. I looked around in search of shelter, but there wasn ’ t any. On both sides I was surrounded by those strange walls I ’ d seen earlier. Maybe if I made it to an intersection I could get out of this roofless tunnel before the rain started. I walked as fast as I could without actually running. For a moment I thought I saw something—a vehicle behind me, some movement from the periphery—no, out of the question, I couldn ’ t get in a car with a stranger. After nothing passed, I turned to find the street empty and quiet. Must be shadows in the storm playing tricks.

Ten minutes later and still no intersection in sight, the sky opened. I was running, but it didn ’ t matter. In minutes I was soaked. I stopped running, stopped walking fast, but I trudged onward , dripping like a sponge. It wasn ’ t cold, after all, and the wetness was somewhat refreshing. Except the part about my clothes clinging to my body.

“ Hey. Girl!”

I looked up. A small, silent vehicle had crept up beside me. A sun-darkened old man with a stubbly white beard leaned over and shouted at me through an open window.

“ What th-the galldurn do y-y-you th-th-think yer doin? Climb in here. ”

I hesitated.

“ C-c-come on. Are you deaf? ”

Now I was offended. I studied the man and his passenger—a small boy in the back seat, holding a puppy. Where sweat had run down my face hours earlier, rain now poured, dripping off my chin. Caution to the wind, I opened the door and got in. In the rearview mirror, I caught it, right before we sped forward—the phantom vehicle I thought I had seen earlier.