“What do we know about him?” asked Harris.
Typing, the technician brought up a security file on the suspect. Reading from the information, “He’s president of the local farm coop … member of the Jaycees … football booster … married his high school sweetheart before two tours in the war,” he said to the director.
“A patriot,” said Harris, looking at a picture of the farmer on the computer screen. A sneer crossed his face. “Maybe we need to visit this Kyle Sanders guy, just to see what he’s up to.”
Chapter 12
Refugees
On a lonely bench in the Mill Valley bus station sat the latest casualties of war; light streamed through the window resting on the solemn faces of Janie Clarkson and her children, hidden in a back room.
The bus depot manager, Joe Lawson, looked at the family as he picked up the phone. He hoped to help with a rescue for the refugees. The call rang in the Sanders’ home.
“Hello,” answered Kyle, listening. “Oh, hey Joe,” he responded to the caller.
“Got a package for you, Kyle,” said the depot manager.
“Okay, just send it out on the truck.”
The manager made sure no one was near before continuing to speak. “No, I think this is something you're gonna want to pick up yourself,” said Joe.
“Okay?” said Kyle, wondering what the mystery was about. But, he knew better than to ask for more details on the unsecured line. Joe was a friend, and if he said he needed to make a pick- up, Kyle trusted his judgment.
“And Kyle, the sooner, the better. Might want to bring your truck with the camper shell,” said Joe. “Looks like rain.”
“Okay — will do.” Kyle ended the call.
“Who was that?” asked Sarah, Kyle’s wife.
“Joe down at the bus depot,” said Kyle. “Says he's got a package for me.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“He wouldn't say — but said I needed to pick it up myself.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don't know.”
“Please be careful, Kyle.”
“Will be back soon,” said Kyle. Have the kids finish the watering, okay?” he added, hoping to make the trip seem routine. Sarah kissed her husband goodbye.
Once Kyle was out of sight, Sarah decided to busy herself, hoping to pass the time while he was gone. The farmer’s wife reached for the picture of the Lord’s Supper hanging in the family’s living room. Swinging the portrait to the side on its hinges, she grabbed the latch behind the iconic picture to open the door to the secret cellar. Below, the family stored the seeds saved for the plants they grew. Once in the cellar, Sarah began filling bags with the pure seeds. Consumed by the work, she hadn’t noticed her youngest, Sailor, until his small hands reached into the bag to help his mother sort their priceless harvest. Just four, he already reminded Sarah of his father and older brother, with his quiet determination and kind heart. Sarah gave him a hug, not wanting the boy to see the worry on her face. Glad to have his company, she looked at her son and noticed a sparkle of curiosity in his eyes.
“Mama, why do we save seeds?” he asked.
“Do you remember Joseph in the Bible?” Sarah asked.
“Uh-huh. He had a pretty coat.”
“Right. But what did he do?”
“He dreamed. He saved the food. God told him. He saved the people.”
“That’s right. Mommy and Daddy feel God told us, sort of like Joseph to save seeds to help people have good food. Do you understand?” she softly asked the small boy.
“I think so.”
“Luv ya,” she smiled, hugging him shortly before he scampered away.
Meanwhile, Kyle Sanders made it to the bus depot in record time. He was anxious to know more about this delivery. He found Joe, the depot manager, at his desk going over routing schedules. “What’s this about, Joe?” Kyle asked the manager.
“Your package is in the back.” Joe pointed to a door behind his desk. The manager led Kyle to the room where Janie Clarkson and her children were tucked away. The sight of them brought relief and sadness to Kyle as thoughts of what they must have been through, and concern for his good friend raced through his mind.
“Oh, Janie, Sarah sure will be glad to see you and the kids — and John?” Kyle inquired. Not able to summon words, Janie shook her head and started to cry. Comforting her in the only way he knew, Kyle held Janie.
“I'm so sorry — here, let's get you and the kids home.” He felt Sarah would be much better equipped at knowing what to say.
At the farm, relief filled Sarah as she heard Kyle’s truck making its way down their small country road. She and the children rushed to greet Kyle, hoping to learn more about the mystery. All questions were answered when Sarah saw Janie, Emily, John Jr., and Jessie, exiting the back of Kyle’s truck. She embraced her close friend, a kindred spirit. After all, she, too, was a farmer’s wife.
“Oh, Janie, we were worried about you and the kids,” said Sarah. Sarah looked to Kyle standing behind Janie. Without a word, she knew from her husband’s expression, John Clarkson had not made the trip with his family. “Well, where's my manners, she continued, “let's get you inside and get you and the kids a nice hot meal.”
In the living room, Kyle pulled his oldest aside, while everyone else was in the kitchen. “Son, come here. I want to show you something,” said Kyle.
“Yeah, Dad?” said Chance, somewhat puzzled.
Drawing closer to his son, Kyle began to whisper. “If something should ever happen to your mother or me and the seeds in the cellar, I want you to know about this.”
“Nothing is going to happen to you and Mom,” said Chance, not wanting to face that possibility.
“I just want you to know,” said Kyle firmly. Then, Kyle crouched on one knee, took a screwdriver and pried up one of the floorboards. Beneath the board was a small compartment containing a tiny pouch. Kyle lifted the packet. “Inside this are a few seeds of all the plants we grow here — enough for a fresh start,” said the farmer. He focused on his son. “Always remember where this is, okay?”
“Okay, Dad.”
“This is really important.”
“I get it, Dad.”
Chapter 13
Let it Grow
Events from the day before left everyone a little edgy on the farm. Janie and the children settled in as best they could. However, this morning, it was time to go about the business of growing the food upon which so many depended. The work placed the majority of the two families in the secret cellar’s security room. TV monitors lined a far wall. Casey, the Sanders’ only daughter, manned the control panel used to operate the numerous surveillance cameras camouflaged along the property’s border.
“Okay, check the left-back forty,” Kyle said to Casey.
Casey grabbed the joystick, directing the camera to pan the area. “All clear,” she said.
“Right forty,” said Kyle.
Once again, Casey worked her joystick magic. “All good.”
“The front right.” Kyle continued the routine security checklist.
The TV monitors showed no intruders or government patrols. “It's all good,” Casey said to her father.
“Appears all systems are go. Let the sun shine!” Kyle announced with an anticipatory smile.
Motors hummed as louvered doors covering an underground greenhouse began to pivot. When closed, the doors were barely visible, and from a distance were undetectable. The family covered the doors’ surface with a substance resembling dirt — hoping to make the coverings blend in with the surrounding plowed fields. Opening the doors allowed the sun’s rays to reach the plants growing in the cavern below. Mirrors reflected light deep into the recess, giving the plants a healthy dose of sunshine. The family knew they had only a few hours of growing time. They would have to close the doors before the government’s satellite surveillance revealed their clandestine operation.
Each member had an assigned task to make their hort
iculture endeavor more efficient. Casey Sanders carried a small container of water and placed it near the beehive. She bent down, watched the bees light on the small reservoir. “Drink up little pollinators,” said Casey as she watched their tiny bodies float on the liquid refreshment.
Chance was in charge of moving compost to mulch some of the seedlings when he noticed Emily carrying a bucket full of water. She seemed to struggle under the weight. “Here, let me help you,” offered Chance. He reached to take the load.
“I've got it,” insisted Emily. She grasped the bucket handle ever tighter.
Still wanting to help in some way, Chance stretched his hand for a canvas tote draped over Emily’s shoulder, brimming with produce. “At least let me get this,” he said. Once again, Emily moved out of reach. “You know it doesn't hurt to let people help.”
“That's what my dad did — tried to help people — and look where it got him,” she snapped. The pain of her father’s capture still fresh, she lashed out at the nearest target.
Feeling her anguish, Chance softened his approach. “I'm sorry about your dad,” he consoled.
“Me too.” Emily closed her eyes, looking down as if once again, hoping this was all a bad dream. Chance had known Emily for as long as he could remember. A year younger than him, they had never really been close. For the first time, even with the pain she was going through, he noticed a sweetness to her spirit, drawing him closer. He had an urge to hug her, but thought better of it, before suggesting they join the others to continue caring for the plants. The two families worked at a somewhat fevered pace, while bees buzzed, and the sun glowed on their illegal operation.
Chapter 14
Cat and Mouse
Congressman Jack Landon returned home from a long day at the office. Because of the late hour, he decided to park his car in the driveway, hoping not to disturb his wife with the sound of the garage door opening. He made his way to the side door of his suburban house, stopping to enter the security code. The stillness of the night was disrupted by a voice coming from the shadows.
“Did you find the ‘Goliath Project’?” rasped the voice. This was the same voice Jack heard in the parking garage a few evenings before.
“Not exactly,” replied Jack. The congressman surveyed the darkness, hoping to spy a figure from which the voice came. “This is ridiculous! Who are you? Why don't you show yourself?” said the Congressman. “Maybe we could help each other,” he coaxed.
“Did you find the ‘Goliath Project’?” the voice inquired once more.
“Yes, but I can't get access.”
“Look to the book!” grated the voice, even louder.
“What book?” asked the disheartened congressman.
The sound of footsteps interrupted their exchange. Jack witnessed an image of a man silhouetted against the soft glow of the streetlight running onto the road. There was another figure behind, chasing him. A dark, unmarked car pulled beside the pair, screeching to an abrupt stop. Men inside the vehicle grabbed the man in front, pulling him into the car. Somewhat panic-stricken, Jack attacked the combination, unlocking the door. Once inside, he leaned against the door wondering what had just happened. He now had a sense the stakes were even higher, making his quest to find answers to the mysterious man’s questions more urgent.
In the country, morning came upon the Sanders’ farm. The early hours found the clan tending the plants in the underground greenhouse. In an instant, an alarm signaling an intrusion along the farm’s southern border cut short the serenity of the farmers caring for their crop.
“We have an intruder, shut it down,” said Kyle Sanders. Casey ran to the security room, switched a lever, causing the doors to close, again obscuring the family’s covert growing establishment. The cameras picked up a group of unmarked black cars fast approaching the Sanders’ home. Kyle knew he must hustle from the cellar to prevent detection of their secret garden. Just in time, he closed the cellar door replacing the Lord’s Supper portrait to its original position concealing the door’s latch. By now, the patrol led by Ted Harris reached the Sanders’ front yard. From the porch, Kyle greeted Harris and his men.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Kyle asked, somewhat reserved.
“Don't need any help. Just thought we would stop by and say, ‘Hi,’” said Harris. He hesitated as if waiting for a more enthusiastic greeting. “I said this was a social call, aren't you going to invite me in?” he asked. A sly grin displayed on his face.
Kyle Sanders paused, then opened the door and motioned Ted Harris and a few of his men inside. Harris paced the living room, sizing up his latest suspects. Sarah and some of the children watched as the bureaucrat wove his web of intimidation.
“Yeah, it’s good to get out of the office and get to know some of our farmers first hand,” he continued, insincerity dripping in his voice.
“Well, I'm really not too much of a farmer anymore. I mostly just plow fields,” said Kyle. He wondered if the government man had a hand to deal or was only bluffing.
“That's good. That's what we like to hear — keeps our food supply from getting contaminated with any dangerous renegade pollen.”
During the encounter, Sarah Sanders spotted the Lord’s Supper painting was ajar. She quickly gave Kyle a glance. In his rush, he must not have secured the picture. His mistake could betray them all. Ted Harris continued to move about the room as he hoped to further assert dominance over his cornered audience. With his right hand, he brushed aside the lace curtain covering a south-facing window.
“I see you keep bees,” said Harris. Through the glass, he viewed several hives sitting in the backyard.
“Yeah, you might say that is a part of the past; we just couldn't let go of,” said Kyle.
Harris leaned closer to the farmer, staring at his face. “You don't want to hold onto the past too hard, it might just come back to sting ya,” said Harris, an unspoken threat in his voice. With that, he turned to Sarah, “Ma’am,” he greeted as he walked to the front door, signaling the visit was finished. However, before exiting, Harris decided to leave one more parting thought. “Well, just keep plowing those fields to keep those government subsidy checks coming.” This time he turned his attention to the children, Casey and Sailor, sitting on the couch. “You wouldn't want these little ones going hungry now, would you?” He leered in true Harris fashion, pivoted and went outside. Kyle watched from his front porch as the government men entered their cars.
“Take care, y’all,” Harris yelled from the vehicle’s side window. “Nice getting to know ya. I'm sure we'll meet again.” Harris turned to an assistant inside the car. “I want more surveillance of this family.”
By this time, Sarah joined her husband to view the departure of the government invasion. Once the patrol was out of sight, Kyle focused on his wife.
“They are going to be watching us even closer,” he said. “I am so tired of feeling like a criminal — hiding underground like an outlaw,” weariness in his voice. “I remember when it was green as far as you could see. We lived like real people. Remember that time Casey begged to go with me to the field? She wasn’t any more than knee-high. We got ready to come home. Chance and I looked and looked. Frantic. We couldn't find her anywhere. Finally, Rascal smelled her out. There she was, curled up between the rows, peaceful as can be. Now, she’s my surveillance expert. No way to raise kids.” Sarah embraced Kyle as the two looked out on miles of empty land.
Chapter 15
The Spin Doctor
The next day, Ted Harris knelt in front of an ornately decorated tombstone, with flowers in hand. A departure from the well-known bravado, this is where Harris, if he were to ever reveal a crack in the tough exterior, showed his vulnerability. The words, “Olivia Harris, Devoted Wife,” carved in the granite before him. “You were the good part of me. Thought I could do anything once I put my mind to it. Losing you has to mean something,” Harris spoke to the monument.
Just then, a black limousine stopped on a side road next to the
gravesite. Harris was about to receive an unwelcome visitor of his own. Artifice Foods CEO, Waldo Boatwright, liked to drop by unannounced just to keep his favorite bureaucratic director on his toes. For Harris, these spontaneous encounters were never an enjoyable experience.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” inquired Harris, upon seeing Boatwright.
“Sorry to interrupt your, ‘conversation.’ My people said I’d find you here.” Boatwright checked his watch. “ Like clockwork.”
“Keeps me focused, “ said Harris.
“Let’s hope you’re as focused on our pet project,” said the CEO.
“We are entering the final stages now,” informed Harris.
“This better work, Harris,” said Boatwright.
“Once we release the pollen from the terminator seeds, farmers won't be growing any more crops — seed savers or not.” Their conversation was interrupted by Harris’ assistant, Tom Finley.
“Mr. Harris, the president wants to see you now,” he announced.
“Duty calls,” said Harris, dismissing himself from Boatwright’s self-appointed meeting. Just before leaving, Harris turned back to address the CEO. “Don't EVER come here again.” With that, Harris and the assistant got into a black four-door sedan waiting nearby.
When the pair reached their destination, the president gestured for them to take a seat in front of his desk. President Samuel Frost inherited the massive food-growing program which advocates had guaranteed would revolutionize the country, creating more food security. Now, after two years in office, the president wasn’t sure he liked what he saw.
“Ted, I have been receiving some disturbing reports about some of the strong-arm tactics used by your patrols,” said the president.
“With all due respect, sir,” Harris retorted, “we have hard intel, showing this group that calls themselves the ‘Seed Savers,’ is nothing more than a bunch of disgruntled farmers. Now acting as terrorists, trying to destroy our food supply.”
Seed Police Page 4
