Parable of the Sower

by Octavia E. Butler

  I tripped him. I think it was the baby who attracted my attention, my sympathy. The tough plastic bubble that held the water didn’t break. The coyote didn’t break either. I set my teeth, sharing the jolt as he fell and the pain of his scraped forearms. Back home, the younger kids hit me with that kind of thing every day.

  I stepped back from the coyote and put my hand on the gun. Harry stepped up beside me. I was glad to have him there. We looked more intimidating together.

  The husband of the woman had thrown off his attacker, and the two coyotes, finding themselves outnumbered, scampered away. Skinny, scared little bastards out to do their daily stealing.

  I picked up the plastic bubble of water and handed it to the man.

  He took it and said, “Thanks man. Thanks a lot.”

  I nodded and we went on our way. It still felt strange to be called “man.” I didn’t like it, but that didn’t matter.

  “All of a sudden you’re a Good Samaritan,” Harry said. But he didn’t mind. There was no disapproval in his voice.

  “It was the baby, wasn’t it?” Zahra asked.

  “Yes,” I admitted. “The family, really. All of them together.” All of them together. They had been a black man, a Hispanic-looking woman, and a baby who managed to look a little like both of them. In a few more years, a lot of the families back in the neighborhood would have looked like that. Hell, Harry and Zahra were working on starting a family like that. And as Zahra had once observed, mixed couples catch hell out here.

  Yet there were Harry and Zahra, walking so close together that they couldn’t help now and then brushing against each other. But they kept alert, looked around. We were on U.S. 101 now, and there were even more walkers. Even clumsy thieves would have no trouble losing themselves in this crowd.

  But Zahra and I had had a talk this morning during her reading lesson. We were supposed to be working on the sounds of letters and the spelling of simple words. But when Harry went off to the bushes of our designated toilet area, I stopped the lesson.

  “Remember what you said to me a couple of days ago?” I asked her. “My mind was wandering and you warned me. ‘People get killed on freeways all the time,’ you said.”

  To my surprise, she saw where I was headed at once. “Damn you,” she said, looking up from the paper I had given her. “You don’t sleep sound enough, that’s all.” She smiled as she said it.

  “You want privacy, I’ll give it to you,” I said. “Just let me know, and I’ll guard the camp from someplace a short distance away. You two can do what you want. But no more of this shit when you’re on watch!”

  She looked surprised. “Didn’t think you said words like that.”

  “And I didn’t think you did things like last night. Dumb!”

  “I know. Fun, though. He’s a big strong boy.” She paused. “You jealous?”

  “Zahra!”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Things took me by surprise last night. I… I needed something, someone. It won’t be like that no more.”

  “Okay.”

  “You jealous?” she repeated.

  I made myself smile. “I’m as human as you are,” I said. “But I don’t think I would have yielded to temptation out here with no prospects, no idea what’s going to happen. The thought of getting pregnant would have stopped me cold.”

  “People have babies out here all the time.” She grinned at me. “What about you and that boyfriend of yours.”

  “We were careful. We used condoms.”

  Zahra shrugged. “Well Harry and me didn’t. If it happens, it happens.”

  It had apparently happened to the couple whose water we had saved. Now they had a baby to lug north.

  They stayed near us today, that couple. I saw them every now and then. Tall, stocky, velvet-skinned, deep-black man carrying a huge pack; short, pretty, stocky, light-brown woman with baby and pack; medium brown baby a few months old—huge-eyed baby with curly black hair.

  They rested when we rested. They’re camped now not far behind us. They look more like potential allies than potential dangers, but I’ll keep an eye on them.

  THURSDAY, AUGUST 5, 2027

  Late today we came within sight of the ocean. None of us have ever seen it before, and we had to go closer, look at it, camp within sight and sound and smell of it. Once we had decided to do that, we walked shoeless in the waves, pants legs rolled up. Sometimes we just stood and stared at it: the Pacific Ocean—the largest, deepest body of water on earth, almost half-a-world of water. Yet, as it was, we couldn’t drink any of it.

  Harry stripped down to his underwear and waded out until the cool water reached his chest. He can’t swim, of course. None of us can swim. We’ve never before seen water enough to swim in. Zahra and I watched Harry with a lot of concern. Neither of us felt free to follow him. I’m supposed to be a man and Zahra attracts enough of the wrong kind of attention with all her clothes on. We decided to wait until after sundown and go in fully clothed, just to wash away some of the grime and stink. Then we could change clothes. We both had soap and we were eager to make use of it.

  There were other people on the beach. In fact, the narrow strip of sand was crowded with people, though they managed to stay out of each other’s way. They had spread themselves out and seemed far more tolerant of one another than they had during our night in the hills. I didn’t hear any shooting or fighting. There were no dogs, no obvious thefts, no rape. Perhaps the sea and the cool breeze lulled them. Harry wasn’t the only one to strip down and go into the water. Quite a few women had gone out, wearing almost nothing. Maybe this was a safer place than any we’d seen so far.

  Some people had tents, and several had built fires. We settled in against the remnants of a small building. We were always, it seemed, looking for walls to shield us. Was it better to have them and perhaps get trapped against them or to camp in the open and be vulnerable on every side? We didn’t know. It just felt better to have at least one wall.

  I salvaged a flat piece of wood from the building, went a few yards closer to the ocean, and began to dig into the sand. I dug until I found dampness. Then I waited.

  “What’s supposed to happen?” Zahra asked. Until now she had watched me without saying anything.

  “Drinkable water,” I told her. “According to a couple of books I read, water is supposed to seep up through the sand with most of the salt filtered out of it.”

  She looked into the damp hole. “When?” she asked.

  I dug a little more. “Give it time,” I said. “If the trick works, we ought to know about it. It might save our lives someday.”

  “Or poison us or give us a disease,” she said. She looked up to see Harry coming toward us, dripping wet. Even his hair was wet.

  “He don’t look bad naked,” she said.

  He was still wearing his underwear, of course, but I could see what she meant. He had a nice, strong-looking body, and I don’t think he minded our looking at it. And he looked clean and he didn’t stink.

  I couldn’t wait to get into the water.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “It’s sundown. I’ll watch our stuff. Go.”

  We got our soap out, gave him the gun, took off shoes and socks, and went. It was wonderful. The water was cold and it was hard to stand up in the waves and the sand kept being drawn away from our feet, even drawn from under our feet. But we threw water on each other and washed everything—clothing, bodies, and hair—let the waves knock us around, and laughed like crazy people. Best time I’ve had since we left home.

  Quite a lot of water had seeped into the hole I dug by the time we got back to Harry. I tasted it—took a little up in my hand while Harry criticized me.

  “Look at all the people in this damned place!” he said. “Do you see any bathrooms? What do you think they do out here. You ought to at least have the sense to use a water purification tablet!”

  That thought was enough to make me spit out the mouthful of water that I had taken. He was right, of course. But that
one mouthful had told me what I wanted to know. The water had been a little brackish, but not bad—drinkable. It should be boiled or a water purification tablet should be added to it, as Harry had said, and before that, according to my book, it could be strained through sand to get rid of more of the salt. That meant if we stayed near the coast, we could survive even if we ran short of water. That was good to know.

  We still had our shadows. The couple with the baby had camped near us, and the woman was now sitting on the sand nursing her baby while the man knelt beside his pack, rummaging through it.

  “Do you think they want to wash?” I asked Harry and Zahra.

  “What are you going to do?” Zahra responded. “Offer to babysit?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think that would be too much. Do either of you mind if I invite them over?”

  “Aren’t you afraid they’ll rob us?” Harry demanded. “You’re afraid of everyone else.”

  “They have better gear than we do,” I said. “And they have no natural allies around here except us. Mixed couples or groups are rare out here. No doubt that’s why they’ve kept close to us.”

  “And you helped them,” Zahra said. “People don’t help strangers too much out here. And you gave them back their water. That means you have enough so you don’t have to rob them.”

  “So do you mind?” I asked again.

  They looked at each other.

  “I don’t mind,” Zahra said. “Long as we keep an eye on them.”

  “Why do you want them?” Harry asked, watching me.

  “They need us more than we need them,” I said.

  “That’s not a reason.”

  “They’re potential allies.”

  “We don’t need allies.”

  “Not now. But we’d be damned fools to wait and try to get them when we do need them. By then, they might not be around.”

  He shrugged and sighed. “All right. Like Zahra says, as long as we watch them.”

  I got up and went over to the couple. I could see them straighten and go tense as I approached. I was careful not to go too close or move too fast.

  “Hello,” I said. “If you two would like to take turns bathing, you can come over and join us. That might be safer for the baby.”

  “Join you?” the man said. “You’re asking us to join you?”

  “Inviting you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not. We’re natural allies—the mixed couple and the mixed group.”

  “Allies?” the man said, and he laughed.

  I looked at him, wondering why he laughed.

  “What the hell do you really want?” he demanded.

  I sighed. “Come join us if you want to. You’re welcome, and in a pinch, five is better than two.” I turned and left them. Let them talk it over and decide.

  “They coming?” Zahra asked when I got back.

  “I think so,” I said. “Although maybe not tonight.”

  FRIDAY, AUGUST 6, 2027

  We built a fire and had a hot meal last night, but the mixed family did not join us. I didn’t blame them. People stay alive out here by being suspicious. But they didn’t go away either. And it was no accident that they had chosen to stay near us. It was a good thing for them that they were near us. The peaceful beach scene changed late last night. Dogs came onto the sand.

  They came during my watch. I saw movement far down the beach and I focused on it. Then there was shouting, screams. I thought it was a fight or a robbery. I didn’t see the dogs until they broke away from a group of humans and ran inland. One of them was carrying something, but I couldn’t tell what it was. I watched them until they vanished inland. People chased them for a short distance, but the dogs were too fast. Someone’s property was lost—someone’s food, no doubt.

  I was on edge after that. I got up, moved to the inland end of our wall, sat there where I could see more of the beach. I was there, sitting still with the gun in my lap when I spotted movement perhaps a long city block up the beach. Dark forms against pale sand. More dogs. Three of them. They nosed around the sand for a moment, then headed our way. I sat as still as I could, watching. So many people slept without posting watches. The three dogs wandered among the camps, investigating what they pleased, and no one tried to drive them away. On the other hand, peoples oranges, potatoes, and grain meal couldn’t be very tempting to a dog. Our small supply of dried meat might be another matter. But no dog would get it.

  But the dogs stopped at the camp of the mixed couple. I remembered the baby and jumped up. At the same moment, the baby began to cry. I shoved Zahra with my foot and she came awake all at once. She could do that.

  “Dogs,” I said. “Wake Harry.” Then I headed for the mixed couple. The woman was screaming and beating at a dog with her hands. A second dog was dodging the man’s kicks and going for the baby. Only the third dog was clear of the family.

  I stopped, slipped the safety, and as the third dog went in toward the baby, I shot it.

  The dog dropped without a sound. I dropped, too, gasping, feeling kicked in the chest. It surprised me how hard the loose sand was to fall on.

  At the crack of the shot, the other two dogs took off inland. From my prone position, I sighted on them as they ran. I might have been able to pick off one more of them, but I let them go. I hurt enough already. I couldn’t catch my breath, it seemed. As I gasped, though, it occurred to me that prone was a good shooting position for me. Sharing would be less able to incapacitate me at once if I shot two-handed and prone. I filed the knowledge away for future use. Also, it was interesting that the dogs had been frightened by my shot. Was it the sound that scared them or the fact that one of them had been hit? I wish I knew more about them. I’ve read books about them being intelligent, loyal pets, but that’s all in the past. Dogs now are wild animals who will eat a baby if they can.

  I felt that the dog I had shot was dead. It wasn’t moving. But by now a lot of people were awake and moving around. A living dog, even wounded, would be frantic to get away.

  The pain in my chest began to ebb. When I could breathe without gasping, I stood up and walked back to our camp. There was so much confusion by then that no one noticed me except Harry and Zahra.

  Harry came out to meet me. He took the gun from my hand, then took my arm and steered me back to my sleepsack.

  “So you hit something,” he said as I sat gasping again from the small exertion.

  I nodded. “Killed a dog. I’ll be okay soon.”

  “You need a keeper,” he said.

  “Dogs were after the baby!”

  “You’ve adopted those damned people.”

  I smiled in spite of myself, liking him, thinking that I’d pretty much adopted him and Zahra, too. “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Get in your bag and go to sleep, will you. I’ll take the next watch.”

  “Some people just came and carried off the dog you killed,” Zahra said. “We should have got it.”

  “I’m not ready to eat a dog yet,” Harry told her. “Go to sleep.”

  The names of the members of the mixed family are Travis Charles Douglas, Gloria Natividad Douglas, and six-month-old Dominic Douglas, also called Domingo. They gave in and joined us tonight after we made camp. We’ve detoured away from the highway to make camp on another beach, and they’ve followed. Once we were settled, they came over to us, uncertain and suspicious, offering us small pieces of their treasure: milk chocolate full of almonds. Real milk chocolate, not carob candy. It was the best thing I’d tasted since long before leaving Robledo.

  “It was you last night?” Natividad asked Harry. The first thing she had told us was to call her Natividad.

  “It was Lauren,” Harry said, gesturing toward me.

  She looked at me. “Thank you.”

  “Is your baby all right?” I asked.

  “He had scratches and sand in his eyes and mouth from being dragged.” She stroked the sleeping baby’s black hair. “I put salve on the sc
ratches and washed his eyes. He’s all right now. He’s so good. He only cried a little bit.”

  “Hardly ever cries,” Travis said with quiet pride. Travis has an unusual deep-black complexion—skin so smooth that I can’t believe he has ever in his life had a pimple. Looking at him makes me want to touch him and see how all that perfect skin feels. He’s young, good looking, and intense—a stocky, muscular man, tall, but a little shorter and a little heavier than Harry. Natividad is stocky, too—a pale brown woman with a round, pretty face, long black hair bound up in a coil atop her head. She’s short, but it isn’t surprising somehow that she can carry a pack and a baby and keep up a steady pace all day. I like her, feel inclined to trust her. I’ll have to be careful about that. But I don’t believe she would steal from us. Travis has not accepted us yet, but she has. We’ve helped her baby. We’re her friends.

  “We’re going to Seattle,” she told us. “Travis has an aunt there. She says we can stay with her until we find work. We want to find work that pays money.”

  “Don’t we all,” Zahra agreed. She sat on Harry’s sleepsack with him, his arm around her. Tonight could be tiresome for me.

  Travis and Natividad sat on their three sacks, spread out to give their baby room to crawl when he woke up. Natividad had harnessed him to her wrist with a length of clothesline.

  I felt alone between the two couples. I let them talk about their hopes and rumors of northern edens. I took out my notebook and began to write up the day’s events, still savoring the last of the chocolate.

  The baby awoke hungry and crying. Natividad opened her loose shirt, gave him a breast, and moved over near me to see what I was doing.

  “You can read and write,” she said with surprise. “I thought you might be drawing. What are you writing?”

  “She’s always writing,” Harry said. “Ask to read her poetry. Some of it isn’t bad.”

  I winced. My name is androgynous, in pronunciation at least—Lauren sounds like the more masculine Loren. But pronouns are more specific, and still a problem for Harry.