The Seventh Seed

by Allison Maruska

“So where’re you from, anyway?” Liz asked after several silent minutes.

  Javier allowed the glop to slide down his throat and sipped his water. “I told you. It’s better if you don’t know much about me.”

  “Look, kid. I’m doin’ you a huge favor here. You’re not like the others we get. I want to know why, and I think you oughta tell me. We toss the guys who are uncooperative.”

  Javier glanced at the case by his feet. If Liz kicked him out, he’d be wandering around God knows where with this conspicuous, silver thing in hand. Plus, his headache was threatening to rip open his skull. If he had a concussion, he’d be better off among an organized group, like this one. The homeless on the street would be more likely to relieve him of his earthly possessions, including the case.

  “I’m from California.”

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that. How’d you end up in Colorado?”

  “Some guys drove me here.”

  “Some guys?”

  Javier nodded.

  “Like . . . government guys?”

  Javier suppressed a smile. Liz seemed wise enough to think around the nightly propaganda. “Sort of. I think.”

  “Well, if that ain’t the most wishy-washy answer I ever heard.” She stood. “All right, Hector. Tell you what I’m gonna do. You can stay here. In my office. You’re too soft to last long out in the main hall. Most guys are decent, but we get the occasional assholes who stay just enough inside the lines to keep us from booting them. I wasn’t planning on staying over tonight, but I will.”

  “Why? You don’t know me.”

  “Not sure. But it’d help to know what you’re carting around there.”

  “I can’t tell you. You’ll be in danger if I do.” That should keep her from pressing the issue. Plus, it was true.

  “In danger? Seems like I really should know now.”

  “The contents aren’t dangerous. What they mean is dangerous. You’re better off if you can play dumb about it.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Back to the government guys?”

  He nodded.

  “Fair enough.” She walked to a bookshelf and pulled a mat from under it. “I sleep here when I stay over, but you can have it. I’ll get blankets from the laundry.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  ****

  Liz sat in her office chair, watching over Hector as he slept. She’d done the same thing with Travis when he was little, and repeating the practice now gave her an odd comfort.

  Travis had been an average boy—smart enough to get by, handsome enough to stay attached, naïve enough for others to take advantage of him. Hector was different. He seemed detached somehow, like he knew more about the world than someone his age should. And that case had something to do with it.

  He’d placed it next to him, between the mat and the bookcase.

  She rocked with her elbows on the arms of the chair, tapping her thumbs together.

  Quietly, she pushed the chair from the desk. She walked to the mat, grabbed the case, and lifted it over Hector.

  He stirred, and she froze.

  He rolled over and mumbled in his sleep.

  She released her breath and carried the case to the bathroom, setting it on the counter.

  It was heavy and solid, like one a photographer might use to store expensive equipment. Unlike Hector, the condition of the case was perfect. She analyzed the top, looking for the release.

  The lock kept her from opening it.

  She huffed but didn’t give up hope. She’d picked more than her fair share of locked items in her years here, mostly from transients who’d abandoned their belongings. The luggage usually contained nothing more valuable than a pair of dirty socks. She sensed this one was different.

  After retrieving a small screwdriver from her desk, she went to work on the lock.

  Breaking into someone’s property could get her fired, but she’d become less worried about her job over the years. There weren’t many others who would spend so much time among the homeless. Her coworkers often thanked her for her extra hours; a few even called her selfless. She didn’t tell them her devotion came from the need for an effective mental distraction. If she stayed home, she’d have nothing to do except think about everything she’d lost.

  “What are you doing?”

  Liz jumped, dropping the screwdriver into the sink. She looked in the mirror. Hector stood in the doorway, squinting in the light and unconcerned that he wore only boxers and a T-shirt.

  “I . . . I need to know what’s in here.”

  “So you’re helping yourself?”

  “If it’s something dangerous, I need to know. I have a responsibility. If you won’t tell me, then you need to leave.”

  He glanced towards the office door, then back to her. She expected him to take the case and go, possibly forgetting his pants in the process.

  Instead, he went to the mat, retrieved something from his pocket, and returned to the bathroom. “Fine. I’ll show you, but you have to keep it quiet. I wasn’t kidding about it being a danger.”

  He laid the case on its side, put a key into the lock, and two metal flaps popped open. Pressing those toward the handle, he lifted the top.

  The padded interior held dozens of transparent plastic cubes, each one labeled and containing . . . a bug? “What are these?” She resisted the urge to pick up one of the cubes.

  Hector grabbed one and held it in front of her. A small, dead bee was inside.

  “Apis mellifera.” He rotated the cube in the light. The bee rolled along with it. “It’s a honey bee. These all are. I collected them from different regions.” He put the cube back in its spot and closed the case. “Are you happy now? I don’t think I’ll be killing anyone with dead bees.”

  “What’s so dangerous about dead bees?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re nineteen. How complicated can it be?”

  “I study them. It’s my job.”

  “Isn’t your job to date girls and get into trouble?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I finished grad school last year. I have a doctorate in entomology.”

  “At nineteen?” She didn’t try to hide her skepticism.

  He ran his hand over his hair. “I can tell you I’m twenty-five, if that’s easier to believe.”

  “I’d rather know your real name. And why I found you in the courtyard.”

  He grabbed the case and carried it back into the office, returning it to its spot next to the bookcase. “Let’s say it has to do with those government guys.” He settled into the blankets. “And my name is Javier.”

  Chapter Two

  Charlie stopped reading case updates when the alert on his holo-dock pinged. A four-inch-tall image of his teenage nephew appeared on the desktop, though the display cut off the top of his hair, which he’d styled into the poofiest fro Charlie had seen outside of a textbook.

  “Hey, Uncle Chuck!” Mattson beamed, apparently dying to see Charlie’s reaction.

  “Wow.” Charlie stepped back, scrutinizing Mattson’s appearance. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

  “You like it?” He patted the edge of the poof. “It’s for 70s day at school.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but the braids were better.” Charlie recalled that argument—while Mattson resembled him more as he grew up, Charlie always preferred the shorter styles that required little maintenance. That is, until he went bald and was left with a zero-maintenance, shiny brown dome.

  “I think I’ll keep it.” Mattson held up a hand mirror, admiring his work.

  A second call came in. Sylvia’s name appeared over Mattson’s face.

  Charlie pressed hold, showing his nephew again. “Like your mother would allow that. I gotta go. One of my agents is calling.”

  “Later, Uncle Chuck.”

  “Don’t call me
that.”

  Charlie switched to Sylvia’s call, and she appeared on his desktop. “Can you take me off the dock?”

  “Why?”

  “You probably don’t want anyone who walks by hearing this.”

  Charlie pulled his phone from the dock and put it to his ear. “Okay. What’s up?”

  “Mendez is missing.”

  “What?” Charlie bolted to his feet and paced behind his desk “What do you mean he’s missing?”

  “Just that. He’s somewhere in Colorado. That’s all we know.”

  “What about the agents? Didn’t they go after him?”

  “They’re dead, sir.”

  Charlie froze. The plan had worked well enough in the past—a little mechanical sabotage, and they didn’t have to worry about the nosy scientist any longer. “What happened?”

  “Hale hit a tree and the airbags failed. Sanderson flew right out the windshield. He might’ve lived if he’d worn his seat belt. Why were they driving such an old car, anyway? We have plenty of new squad cars that drive themselves.”

  Because they couldn’t look like Homeland Security agents. Charlie swallowed. Sanderson had been his friend since the academy. Why hadn’t the bastard put on his seat belt? Maybe he wasn’t used to riding in antiques that didn’t automatically secure you, but he had to have remembered using seat belts as a kid.

  Charlie rubbed his hand. “Colorado, huh?”

  “Yeah. We don’t think the kid could’ve gotten far. There was blood in the back seat . . .”

  Thinking the call was dropped, Charlie checked the screen then returned the phone to his ear. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “The case is gone. He must have taken it.”

  Charlie squeezed his phone. “We need to find that kid. Put out a press release. Describe him as armed and dangerous. If that doesn’t get us any leads, we’ll offer a reward. Someone will squeal.”

  ****

  On her way through the common room, a news report caught Liz’s attention. Javier’s face was on the screen, though the eyebrows were wrong, as if someone had altered the photo to make him look menacing.

  “Federal authorities are searching for nineteen-year-old Javier Mendez, who was awaiting trial for killing a five-year-old girl in a hit-and-run last month in Los Angeles,” the reporter said.

  A photograph of a cute little girl holding a puppy appeared next to Javier’s picture, and Liz’s stomach knotted. Did I let a killer in here?

  “When police caught up to him, he was intoxicated, and an unregistered handgun was found in his car. Mendez escaped custody while being transferred between holding facilities yesterday. He has family in southwest Colorado and may head there. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you see Mendez or know where he might be, contact your local authorities.”

  With the new information nagging her, Liz continued the walk to her office. Javier had spent most of the last three days there, working on the computer and writing in a notebook. He’d said his research was related to the bees, but that was the extent of her knowledge. Whatever it was, it looked complicated. The only reason she allowed him access to her computer was the government seemed to be against what he was doing—meaning it must be something noble.

  Javier was young and intelligent, and he seemed compassionate. Not the type to drive drunk and run over a child with his car. She’d trusted him enough to let him use her unrestricted internet access.

  The words from the news report echoed in her mind. The ten years since the war had shown her how the media fabricated whatever information would serve the interests of anyone supporting them, but still, doubt invaded.

  She hurried down the hall, as if Javier would completely change now that she’d seen the report. Fumbling with her lanyard, she struggled to locate the key to her office. She clicked the lock and threw the door open.

  He sat at the computer with his back to her, just as he’d been doing for most of the past three days.

  Sighing, she shut the door. “Cops are looking for you.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “They said you hit a girl with your car.”

  “Was that the best they could do?” He kept his eyes on the screen, which displayed thick blocks of text in a tiny font. “I was hoping they’d call me a terrorist or a drug lord. Something like that.”

  Staring at him, she eased her way around to the front of the desk. Could this be part of an act? “It’s not true, right?”

  He looked up with raised eyebrows. “Of course not. You know the news is bullshit.”

  “So why are they after you?”

  His focus returned to the screen. “I know why.”

  “Care to enlighten me?”

  “It’s better if I don’t.”

  “Sticking with that, huh?” She analyzed his face. If he had any guilt, he hid it well. “Anyway, they know you’re in Colorado. The report said you have family here. So folks will be on the lookout.”

  “Did the photo look like me?”

  “An angry you.”

  He scowled.

  She laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Think anyone here will connect me to that?”

  “Maybe. Better not give them another chance. You either need to stay in the office or leave the shelter for good.”

  He pursed his lips and glanced back at the screen. “I’d like to stay.”

  “All right. I’ll get to the kitchen before lunch and get some food for you.” As she headed out, she peeked at him through the cracked door. He didn’t stop reading from the screen and taking notes. She would ask to see his notebook when she got back. If it looked suspicious at all, she would tell him to leave.

  The thought made her uneasy. If he was up to something criminal, what did the bees have to do with it?

  ****

  Two days after Liz saw the report, Javier read through his notes one last time. He’d reached the end of what he could do with the computer and needed to get to a lab and a virologist.

  He cleared his search history and scratched his jaw. The beard he was allowing to grow would eventually offer a disguise. At the moment, he looked like a bum—ironic, considering where he was. His hygiene had been reduced to sponge baths in the connected bathroom, which didn’t leave him feeling much cleaner than when he’d started. He’d give anything to stand under running, hot water and use more soap than he needed. Being a wanted fugitive and fastidious at the same time didn’t work.

  He walked to the window and separated the blinds. The day was sunny, and it looked warm. A few residents mingled in the courtyard.

  Anxiety collected in Javier’s stomach. The longer he was stuck in that office, the smaller it felt. He couldn’t save anyone while under house arrest.

  The doorknob rattled and Liz entered, rushing to the desk chair and typing on the computer. “We have another problem.”

  Great, what now? Javier stood behind her. A video appeared on the screen.

  “Crap, it’s making us watch an ad.” She clicked a few places on the page. “I can’t skip it.”

  We at LifeFarm know the health of your family is your top priority…

  “Can’t you just tell me?” Javier grimaced. Nothing was worth watching this garbage.

  …new practices in agriculture resulting in a twenty-five percent increase in crop yields in 2040 alone…

  “This won’t take long to get through. I want you to see for yourself.”

  …future of mankind.

  Liz maximized the window. “Okay, it’s starting now.”

  A blonde, middle-aged woman sat at a news desk, and the photograph of Javier was displayed above her left shoulder. “New developments this morning in the search for fugitive Javier Mendez. Police say he’s suspected of operating a drug trafficking operation in Los Angeles and may have moved business to Colorado. This is in addition to the hit-and-run and weapons charges. Police are now offering a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for tips leading to Mendez’s arrest.” The report wen
t to a full-screen shot of his face, and a phone number covered the bottom fourth of it.

  Fifty thousand dollars! Javier dug his nails into his palm. He wouldn’t last long with that kind of bounty on his head.

  Liz spun her chair around, facing him. “You need to tell me what’s going on. My boss asked who I’m hiding in here. I told her you were my son and you’ve hit a rough patch. Now the cops are offering big money to find you. I don’t know what you did to piss them off. But give me a reason to keep lying for you.”

  Javier swallowed. Liz was right. If he expected her to protect him, she deserved an explanation.

  He leaned against the edge of the desk. “Before I tell you, you need to know that what I have to say could put you on their radar as well.”

  “I figured.”

  He took a long breath. “I discovered something LifeFarm doesn’t want me—or anyone—to know about.”

  “LifeFarm? I thought you said those guys were government.”

  “They are. You think LifeFarm and the government aren’t connected? They run pretty much everything.”

  She shrugged. “Okay, sure. I just hadn’t thought LifeFarm was connected to your guys.”

  “I didn’t either, until they started driving me away from California.”

  “So what’d you find?”

  Javier glanced at the closed door, then shook his head at his paranoia. No one was listening. “Last year, I was hired by an independent firm to research the incidents of bee deaths around the country. Die-offs have been intermittently occurring for the past forty years, but certain regions have experienced an increase in hive demise.”

  “Well, that’s no big surprise, with all the crap LifeFarm uses on the crops.”

  “Exactly. That was my prediction too, but I thought, ‘Hey, if this company wants to pay me to point out the obvious, let them.’ So I got to work collecting samples and running tests. The bees were indeed being killed by the stronger insecticides, but that’s not the whole story.”

  “What’s the rest of the story?”

  “I found bees and other insects that weren’t dying.”

  Liz scowled. “Why is that important?”

  “Because they should have died. Chemical insecticide use on crops is an old practice, but since LifeFarm forced all organic and home farms out of existence, it’s exploded. Nature fights back, though, as the bugs showed me. They’ve adapted to the poison over time. LifeFarm has had to use stronger and stronger pesticides.”