Scattered Seeds

by Alice Sabo

  “Mmm. Some of the new kiddies are sharing beds, so we’re fine for the time. I asked Bruno if he could keep an eye out for bedding.”

  “We need to give him the title of Forage Master,” Tilly said with a laugh.

  Janice didn’t look up from her notes. “Makes sense.”

  That gave Tilly pause. They didn’t have a committee, squad, or whatever to do foraging. People did it whenever the mood hit them. But with more people coming in, they were going to need more hard goods like beds, dressers, blankets, clothing. She headed for Angus’s office to run it by him.

  Tilly didn’t recognize the man with Angus. Her surprise shifted to unease. For the past five years, as they prudently grew High Meadow, she’d known every person here. Now they were overrun with strangers. The changes were making her cranky. She hadn’t realized how comfortable she’d gotten.

  Angus thanked the man, and when he turned to leave, Tilly realized it was one of the Travelers. He gave her a smile, and she responded in kind. She waited until he was out of earshot to speak. “Which one is he?”

  “Lotzy, an in-law to Rosa, I think.”

  Tilly tried to picture all of the Travelers. She so wanted to trust them all, but knew she should be more circumspect. “What did he want?”

  “With Istvan gone off to find Nick, they want to stay until he returns.”

  She started tallying up the available space and resources. “We’re almost out of bedding...”

  Angus held up a hand to stop her. “They want to stay in the storm tunnel. Prefer their own camp.”

  “But it’s kind of grim down there.”

  “It’s safe, and it’s their own space. He asked if he could help us with anything. I’m thinking about sending a few men back over to Creamery. That bully-boy we expelled knows where it is.”

  Tilly sat down across from Angus. “Oh no. You don’t think...”

  “They contained him the first time.”

  “Probably because they offered him better pickings over here. What are we going to do?”

  “Martin has increased the Watch. We will send someone to warn Creamery...”

  “...And wait,” Tilly said, finishing his sentence.

  “Exactly.”

  Tilly blew out a breath, settling deeper into the chair. She hadn’t realized how lucky they’d been in the people they’d chosen. Their little community was a gem waiting for a thief to find it, and this latest season of migration might deliver one. “Are we going to need an army?”

  “An army?” Angus frowned at her. “For what?”

  “To keep us safe.”

  “We have Martin to worry about that.”

  “Mm. He’s going to need more men, isn’t he?”

  “He’ll get them as fast as we can vet them. I expect there will be more refugees.”

  “Yes. Which brings me to why I’m here. I want to give Bruno a committee for foraging.”

  Angus chuckled as he shook his head. “Bruno and committee do not belong in the same sentence.”

  “Fine. A squad then.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we need stuff!” Tilly barked. She was more on edge than she realized, and Angus’s usual obliviousness vexed her.

  Angus put his hands up in surrender. “Fine with me. Who do you need?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe some of the Growers Committee on rainy days. Maybe some of the Watch when they’re off duty.”

  “Ask the kids. I think Lily goes out with Bruno sometimes.”

  “Yes, good thinking.” Tilly rose to get on her way.

  “My dear, are you all right?” Angus asked with a gentleness he reserved for her.

  Tilly rubbed her eyes then pushed her hair off her forehead, her fingers tangling in it. “No.”

  Angus held out his hand. She took it, squeezed it. “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

  “No. Too many things to do. Maybe tonight.

  “It’s a date,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling in a way that soothed Tilly more than any words he could have offered.

  She gave his hand another squeeze before leaving. His mention of the children had her thinking about the Barberry Cove kids. The hallway was quiet. She checked the small gym, but found no sign of the children. She headed for the classrooms that they had chosen to remain as they were, trying to remember the class schedules. She was approaching them when she heard a sound that sliced through her like razors. It brought her to a halt, frozen in the hall. Children’s voices raised in song.

  Music. She hadn’t thought about the lack of it in awhile. They’d opened the music room once and admired all the instruments stored there. Unfortunately, of all the accountants and day traders and secretaries that lived at High Meadow, no one seemed musically inclined. It had been pushed down the list of essentials replaced with food, clothing and security. There had been a few sing-alongs and some impromptu a capella outbursts every now and then to celebrate some small happiness, but the choir of voices she heard sent goose bumps prickling over her body.

  They were singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” with more enthusiasm than skill. Tears burned in Tilly’s eyes. Memories flooded her, times before Zero Year. Things she had shut away in a hermetically sealed box. Her oldest son singing with his kindergarten class. Her daughter at a piano recital. The family at the big table in the dining room singing around a birthday cake. Precious memories that she’d buried with the bodies of her children and grandchildren in a mass grave somewhere up north. The children stopped singing and burst into applause for themselves. The door flew open and the five to ten year-olds flooded the hallway.

  Tilly wiped the tears off her face. The door opposite opened, but the older kids filed out less raucously. Mika came over. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, thank you. I was looking for you.”

  Mika gave her a look somewhere between guilty and sulky. “Why?”

  “I wanted to ask if you would be interested in joining a foraging group.”

  “For food?” Mika asked, looking a little alarmed.

  “No, stuff. Sheets, blankets, coats.”

  “Oh. Yeah, maybe.”

  Tilly took her notebook out of her pocket. She started a list with Bruno and added Mika. “Can you think who else might like to join?”

  “Maybe Lily and William?”

  Tilly added Lily’s name to the list but not William. He already worked as Angus’s shadow, and she wanted him to stay there. But thinking of Lily reminded her of a previous question. “Did you know about Ted?”

  “What about him?”

  “That he was out there. That kids could go to him.”

  Mika shook his head. “Uh uh. But I had a home,” he said with a trace of anger.

  “Yes. Of course.” Tilly realized no one had updated him on Nick’s gamble. She hesitated to say anything knowing how painful hope could be. The children had barely settled in, she didn’t want to give them vague assurances and baseless promises. Nick’s mission might not bring any news of their parents. Better to wait until they had more information.

  “But you knew about Wisp,” Tilly said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Who told you. What did they say?”

  “My dad. He said to come here. And if we got separated to look for the Finder.”

  “How did he know about Wisp?”

  Mika gave her an irritated shrug before stomping off. She remained in the empty hall, shadows of loved ones pushing too close. The classroom door opened again, and Elsa came out. The little woman might be smaller than most of her charges, but she seemed to be enjoying her role as teacher.

  “Did you hear the children?” she asked, eyes bright with cheer .

  “Yes,” Tilly said, clenching her teeth to suppress the tears.

  Elsa’s happy expression melted away. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

  Tilly huffed out a long breath. “Just memories,” she said in an unsteady voice. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. Music does that
sometimes. Makes us remember so vividly.”

  Making up her mind on the spot, Tilly started down the hall. “Come,” she said more sharply than she intended. She turned to see an uneasy look on Elsa’s face. “Please.” She led the tiny biobot to the music room. It took her a minute to find the key on her oversized key ring. She unlocked the room letting out a whiff of dust followed by a faint scent of wood and metal. She marched in, trying to outrun her emotions, flipped on the lights and started opening the cabinets.

  She heard Elsa’s gasp. “Oh my.”

  “Can you play any of them?” Tilly asked.

  Elsa giggled. “I’m a Font, Tilly. I can play them all.”

  “Please.” Tilly waved at the instruments. “Use them. Teach the children. We can’t lose music.”

  Elsa pulled out cases, peeking inside. “The stringed instruments might be a problem. Unless Dieter can figure out how to make replacements.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps we can put that on the foraging list. I can’t imagine that music stores were looted. Nothing in there to eat.”

  “But look at all the percussion, and horns...oh my.”

  Tilly left Elsa cooing over her new treasures feeling rather pleased with herself. On her way to the cafeteria, she checked the hygiene closet, as it had been dubbed. They were okay for bar soap, but very low on shampoo. Another thing for the foragers to look for. Nick had mentioned a settlement that was making soap, but that thought made her realize that they needed more than one person to be out looking for barter. Especially now that Nick was off doing other things, like solving mysteries. She thought of Bruno, but that would put too much on his plate. Maybe she could interest one of the Travelers in subcontracting to them.

  She grinned, even though it was tinged with sadness, her mind had put the thought together in pre-Zero Year terms. Subcontracting? They would laugh to hear her use such a term. Regardless, the supposition was sound.

  “Tilly, Tilly, Tilly!” Lily came bolting down the hall and slid to a stop next to her.

  “Yes?”

  “Mika said you wanted me to go on a mission with Bruno?”

  “No,” Tilly said with a firm shake of the head. She didn’t like the sound of that and didn’t want Lily to get any ideas. “I want to find some people to help Bruno with his foraging.”

  Lily cocked her head, biting her lower lip. “Does he know that?”

  “I am looking for him.”

  “He’s in the kitchen. He found some new weeds that he wants us to eat.”

  “I don’t think they’re weeds, dear.”

  Lily hunched up her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug before skipping off down the hall.

  Tilly went straight back to the kitchen. The cooks were resting while the servers were busy dishing out lunch on the food line. She found Bruno in the back work area unpacking a mess of greens from a soggy sack. His shoulders were damp and water beaded his dark hair. “Still raining?” she asked.

  “Misting, really,” Bruno replied. The shadows in his dark eyes had receded a little, but Tilly didn’t think he would ever recover from the loss of his settlement. How did one put a massacre behind him? Physically, he was still healing from the brutal beating he’d taken, and he favored one leg.

  “What have you brought us?” Tilly asked.

  “Chicory, cress, dandelion. All a bit sharp, but maybe in soup, or eggs. I leave it up to the cooks to figure out how to use them.”

  “Fresh food is always welcome.”

  Bruno upended his sack, pouring out the last few plants. “Wisp showed me what to look for. I tasted them all. That’s how I can tell them apart.”

  “You’ve been such a help. I hate to ask for more,” Tilly began, hoping to hook him in.

  “Anything,” he said giving her an intense look.

  “I’d like to make you the Master Forager.” The sudden light in his eyes told her she’d done the right thing. “With the refugees coming in, we’re short on everything. Can you manage a crew?”

  “Hm. A crew? I prefer to work on my own.”

  “I know, but we need so many things. Maybe you could do the um, trail blazing, and leave a list of what needs to be picked up for the rest of the crew.”

  Bruno gave her a hesitant nod. “I can see how that could work. Who have you got in mind?”

  She pocketed her list. “That’s up to you. It’s your crew.”

  “I’ll check with a few people. What are you looking for?”

  “I was afraid you’d asked that,” Tilly said with a rueful chuckle. “I guess we need to figure out a system, huh?” She beckoned him to follow her back to her office. The room had been an office for the kitchen manager and nutritionist. It was larger than she needed, so she’d added a few notes of comfort−two armchairs and a couch for informal meetings with the cooks−a worktable and a small desk. Just inside the door, a rack of file holders hung, gathering dust. She pointed it out. “How about we make a needs bin? Then Janice can tell you if she needs sheets, and Marvin can request beds and dressers. The cooks can leave you requests for refills on herbs and such...” she let the sentence hang, trying to judge his reaction.

  Bruno rubbed his mouth then fingered his chin as he stared at the racks. “I can start here in the next street over, but I might need to travel further afield.”

  “Martin has vehicles. He’ll sign one out to you,” Tilly said, making a mental note to tell Martin about that right away.

  Bruno continued to stare at the wall nodding absently. “I can ask anyone?”

  “Of course.” Tilly hoped that wouldn’t be a problem. Martin would have a hissy if any of his people left the Watch to work with Bruno. Lottie also.

  Bruno lumbered off to start recruiting. Tilly pulled out her notepad to cross out the list she’d started. One more worry off her plate.

  Chapter 37

  “As the world lost population, so did every industry, each religion, craft, art, political party, science, philosophy and all fields of medicine. Great minds were lost at a time when humanity so desperately needed guidance.”

  History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss

  NICK FOLLOWED THE NATTILY dressed man across the parking lot to a path through a stand of trees. The man stepped around puddles, holding a sheaf of papers over his head against the light rain. Nadine and Arnold flanked Nick with the armed guard taking up the rear. Once they cleared the trees, Nick saw the Cold Spring Station on the Reading-Denver Line. At least he knew where he was now, still east of the Mississippi river and north of the Continental Line.

  It surprised him to see an active station. Maybe they had only shut down the Continental Line and its laterals. Once inside, he checked around for the big board that would tell him what lines were still open.

  “If you want to use the facilities, we have about a half hour wait.”

  Nick waited to ask his questions, instead preferring to hit the restrooms. After washing up, he felt more clear headed. But he must have taken longer than he thought because as soon as he returned to the platform a single train car arrived. They were ushered aboard.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Peoria.”

  Nadine sputtered. “Peoria? Why is the president in Peoria?”

  Their escort ignored them.

  “Who does HR work for?” Nick asked.

  The man moved further down the car.

  “Why won’t you answer me?” Nick demanded. The guard raised his weapon gesturing Nick to the other end of the car. Luckily, the trip was short because Nick was ready to take his chances against the guard to get some answers out of the man. They stopped at the next station and went above ground to be loaded into a waiting van. A big black van just like the ones that Nick had taken from Rutledge’s lab. Another short ride later, they were at a very modern, modified office building. They were led out of the van and into the building where Nick saw a lot more security. Except this time, they were wearing sand-colored fatigues that looked military with name badges and rank on the sleeves. He
looked for a unit insignia but didn’t see one.

  “McGuire?”

  The name sailed out of the blue and stunned Nick. He turned toward the voice, shaken to hear a last name he’d shed when he’d buried the last of those carrying it.

  “My God, it’s really you?”

  Nick stared at the man hurrying toward him with delight splashed across his flabby face. The fact that he was overweight in a time of scarcity galled Nick. His eyes were mud brown with sagging flesh making them look smaller. He wore a business suit, with the tie hanging loose. The pants were a little too long, bunching up over a pair of shiny brown loafers. His thin hair was slicked back from a pronounced widow’s peak.

  It wasn’t until he wheezed an asthmatic laugh that Nick remembered him. “Parsons?”

  “Yes! I can’t tell you how good it is to see another agent.”

  Nick opened his mouth and shrewdly shut it again. The last time he’d seen Parsons, he hadn’t been an agent, just a office clerk. But many things had changed in Zero Year. If the man wanted to call himself an agent, there wasn’t anyone left to nay say him. Nick forced a smile on his face.

  Parsons gave him a once over, then tsked. “We’ll find you some proper clothes later.”

  Nick blinked at him, totally lost for a moment. “I guess we could all use some sweaters,” he said, including Arnold and Nadine.

  Parsons snorted an abrupt denial. “I meant a suit.” He rolled his eyes as though Nick should understand exactly what he meant.

  Nick became very aware of his muddy jeans and damp sweatshirt. He’d appreciate a change into dry clothes, but a suit seemed absurd.

  “Well, come with me, we have a lot to talk about,” Parsons said waving off their previous escort.

  “You don’t get to just take this bunch,” the man objected.

  “Of course I do. I have the Old Man’s ear,” Parsons said smugly. A staring contest ensued that reminded Nick of the one between Bludgeon and Shotgun, but here it seemed almost comical.

  “Fine, but it’s on you when my project falls short.” He marched away, shaking his head.