“I have no idea” she answered looking over to look at the contents of my box, to see if it would give her a clue. “Any ideas, Dax?”
I took the unit from her and removed the protective wrapping to see it more clearly. As soon as I saw the face of it, with its display panel and dials, I knew exactly what it was and I experienced a rapid repair to my ego.
“Sure,” I shrugged, trying to look smart and modest at the same time, “it’s a Ham radio.”
“And?” prodded Cedar, slightly exasperated. I could tell that she thought whatever it did was likely useless. I wouldn’t have admitted it for the world, but I was leaning that way myself.
“It’s a communicator. It can send signals over huge distances. They were really popular early in the millennium, before the cell phone and internet. They made comeback when governments starting locking down internet usage by blocking sites and banning certain social networks.” It had great potential to contact other people out in the Burn Zone, with only one real downfall, “But you need other people to have them, or there’s no point.”
“I guess this is its power source,” Cedar answered, patting the heavier box. “It looks like it might be liquid metal batteries with some sort of converter.” She sighed, obviously disappointed with the radio. “We’ll take it anyway; there must be some reason that the Jam Makers would include it.”
“Hey, do you think 4Gig was a Jam Maker?” asked Jake, out of the blue. It was good to know that I wasn’t the only one thinking about the old guy.
“I never thought about it,” I replied, “but, yeah, it’s entirely possible.” I smiled. “What better cover than to sound like a crackpot?” Jake chuckled a little, but frowned right after.
“Whoever killed him…who’s gonna make sure they pay?” he wondered out loud.
“Karma’ll get them,” stated Blossom with an amazing amount of confidence.
“Who’s Karma?” inquired Jake, feeling like he’d missed something.
“Not who…what, dough head! Don’t you know anything?” Blossom threw a wadded up insta-meal wrapper at him. “Karma is like, well, it’s like cosmic justice.”
“Oh.” Jake sounded let down by her explanation.
“No, it totally works! The people who killed my parents wound up OD-ing on a botched mix of ‘O’ and it wasn’t a good trip. The doctor said they went out screaming like their guts were being ripped out.” The smile of satisfaction on her pretty face was a bit disturbing, but I guess if someone killed my parents, I’d probably feel the same way. At least that explained the SK clothes and demeanour, but the mainstream name. I’d never heard of a bad ‘O’ trip, but I guess anything was possible and her explanation seemed to comfort Jake. We all turned back to the crate to see what else it had to offer. One whole layer was dedicated to food and water tablets. It would keep us for a couple of weeks, if we were careful. Add to that our current supplies and we might be good for an additional ten days or so. That meant that where ever we were going, we’d have to get there before another turn of the moon. The next item of mystery was a box the size of pen or stylus case. It had a picture of an old fashioned key on it, I thought they might be called skeleton keys, but it didn’t open and didn’t seem to do much of anything. We did notice a small red light on one side, but its use was a complete mystery. We pulled out a good selection of Sunskins and air canisters and added them to our pile of swag. Cedar and I turned to get the kids to help repack the crate, but it was obvious that Jake and Blossom had lost any interest in our little windfall. They had started tussling around the tunnel, playing some warped version of tag. Blossom was trying to avoid capture but miscalculated her route and tripped right in to the empty crate.
Her head popped up over the edge of the box and her brow pressed together in consternation.
“Uhm, Dax? I think I broke the bottom. Something cracked.” She climbed out carefully and looked back at the damage. We all scurried over and could clearly see a large curved crack in the bottom of the plastic container. It was almost perfectly arced, running along one corner, almost like it had been intentional. Cedar bent over and tried to push the errant piece back in to place, but it only popped higher, tilting on a crazy angle, making me think it could be some sort pressure clasp. I saw Cedar frown at it, as one would at recalcitrant child. She stood a moment, hands on hips, contemplating the box. Her expression brooked no interruption, so I stood quietly as she walked around it and then looked inside again. Her features straightened and I guessed that she’d come to some sort of conclusion. She bent over and placed both hands firmly on the base of the crate and pushed. A large piece of plastic, minus the rounded corner popped up from the box. Cedar smiled in satisfaction and reached in to grab whatever was in the secret compartment.
The three of us watched as she pulled out three shallow, but wide cases that fit snugly in to the bottom of the crate. Cedar laid each one down carefully and turned back to check the cache box. I was surprised when she reached in one more time and pulled out what looked to be an envelope; not one made out of plastic either, but real paper. I sidled up to her, curious to see such a rare item. She turned it over a couple of times, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it and then carelessly shoved her fingernail under the sealed edge. I must have let out a horrified squawk because her body jerked in surprise and the envelope went flying out of her hand. I made a grab for it, mid-air, but missed and watched as it wafted gently to the ground. My outburst perked up the kids’ interest and they gathered around in a tight circle as I picked up the paper gingerly, afraid that it might disintegrate in my hand, but it was solidly constructed and could have been sealed just yesterday. I studied the glued end, mentally debating the best way to get it opened without damaging the outer wrapper. I could feel the weight of whatever was inside and the potential contents beckoned and taunted me as tried to puzzle out my dilemma. Jake must have been curious too, as he grabbed the envelope out of my hand and tore open the end. My historian’s heart seized in fit of horror, but I could feel the tingle of anticipation as he drew out a piece of paper and carefully unfolded it in the dim glow of Cedar’s light stick. He took a quick glance and then handed the letter to me with his one sided shrug.
“Good luck, man,” he added dolefully. I perused the paper, enjoying the slight roughness and weight of it in my hand. The script flowed over the page in a tidy blue letters and I realized why Jake had handed it to me; it was hand written. I smiled, enjoying the graceful swoops of the connected letters. Cursive writing was a lost art, not even Reg had used it. I had seen samples before and slowly picked out bits and pieces of the message and read it out loud as best I could.
“To Whom it may Concern…blah blah…you are in possession of something very…something or other…and if things have come to pass they way we believe, you may” I had to skip over several words that blended together mysteriously. “...Very important to…good lord, what does this say? Never mind, here’s some numbers...46.43343, -63.64871…all due haste. You must get the cases there at all cost.” We all exchanged glances, not knowing exactly what to say about the turn of events. “Let’s open up the cases and see what’s in them” I suggested, hoping it would help clarify the short message.
The cases revealed hundreds of envelopes of different sizes, some tiny, some more traditional letter sized and they were all lumpy, to varying degrees, the contents obviously more than just simple correspondence. I cracked open a small envelope and poured the contents into my hand. I stared at the small round wrinkled orbs trying to decipher their purpose. My musings were interrupted by the sound of a Cedar smacking her forehead, rather ferociously. She stared at me, waiting for me mentally catch up with her. Perhaps the whack on the head had knocked something loose, as she glowed with certainty.
“Seeds!” she yelled triumphantly. “I told you there was something important about seeds.” The rusty gears in my head cranked to life and the pieces started coming together.
“It’s a seed library.” The quick image of t
he Dewey decimal system came back to me. Reg knew that we’d find the cache, but how?
“Okay, so like, what’s a seed library?” Blossom broke into my thoughts and I could see Jake nodding behind her, wondering the same thing. The import of what we possessed rendered me speechless for a moment, but I gathered my scattered ideas and tried to explain just exactly what we had.
“Before the big melt, there were a lot of people who were worried about where the planet was going. The environment was changing and farmers couldn’t grow the crops they were familiar with…” I stopped, realizing that it hadn’t really started there, but it was a good enough place to begin and I could flesh out more information later, “but they wanted to preserve their farming history, so they started collecting seeds for all the old plants, even finding seeds for plants that were thought to be extinct. They hoped that one day they’d be able to grow their usual crops again. Gardeners did the same thing, preserving seeds for flowers and plants that had medicinal properties or ones that they just really liked, people had been exchanging seeds and plants for, well forever.” I paused, still overwhelmed by the historical significance of the seed library. “But it’s more than that. These cases hold the key to re-establishing the world that was once here. Who knows, there could be all sorts of vegetable and fruit seeds in here. This is possibly humanity’s last chance at a real existence.”
I saw Blossom roll her eyes and I cringed a little, thinking I might have overstated the importance of the situation, but I realized immediately that what I’d said was most likely true.
“How can those little things, seeds, do all that?” queried Blossom doubtfully.
“Wait, I know this!” interrupted Jake, “If you can get the seeds to grow, you can have your own food and not have to rely on food packets and insta-meals. If we can grow trees and other plants they’ll produce more oxygen and improve the environment, maybe even create weather patterns which would bring the rain back.” He paused, for dramatic effect, or so I guessed, “And if the rain comes back more things will grow and well, the world will be fixed. Imagine looking out of this tunnel and everything being green!”
He’d obviously done a lot of studying for his final paper, and had researched in places where no one was supposed to go to. That could be why people were after him. Both he and Blossom knew nothing other than life in the bio-domes including faux food, water tablets and recycled or augmented air. It was even hard for me to imagine a world verdant and teeming with life, but the idea felt familiar and right, for lack of a better term.
“Yeah, that’s just it Jake,” I agreed, but there was something that niggled at me. We had what could be the last hope of man, but what the hell were we supposed to do with it? I poured the little seeds back in the envelope and resealed it. There was a picture of some sort of plant, heavy with flowers, on the flap of the envelope. I guess someone; somewhere might know what it was and what it might be good for, but whom and where? I propped my glasses back up on the top of my head and rubbed my face. “So now what?” I posed the question to the entire group, hoping that someone might have a clue as to what to do.
“It seems that this guy, Reg, knew we’d find this” offered Cedar, “so he must also know what we’re supposed to do with it. Maybe this is all part of some Jam Maker plan.” Cedar took the envelope from me and placed it gently back in its resting place. I took stock of our merry little band; a tiny street smart waif, a dreamer, a cast out and me, a washed out historian. What had Reg been thinking? In what possible altered reality could he have thought that any of us could pull this off?
While I’d been ruminating, Jake had loaded up the tablet and started running Reg’s file.
“It’s got to be in here, Dax. 4Gig wouldn’t have brought us this far, if he couldn’t take us all the way.” God, I hoped Jake was right, because I was just starting to realize that this was a task of superhero proportions and superheroes were few and far between, especially in the Bee Zee.
Chapter 11 – Reg’s Legacy
I lay awake, long after everyone else had fallen asleep. Even their rhythmic breathing couldn’t lull me in to drowsiness. Memories of Reg flitted through my mind and I remembered a time when we’d had a huge argument over his conspiracy theories. It had been eight years ago or so, but well after he’d trusted me enough to show me his office and the folly it held. I’d come by to check up on him, make sure that he’d eaten, something he often forgot to do and maybe get him to take a shower or at least get cleaned up a bit. He’d been in a mood, pacing back and forth in the small space, more agitated than usual. He was complaining and worrying over government spies and what he thought was irrefutable proof that they were in league with the Chinese triads that had taken over in Asia and I’d finally lost it.
“Then, for Christ’s sake, do something about it!” I finally yelled. “Stop bitching and do something.” I figured the thought would keep him from whining anymore, and it did, but not in the way I had hoped. His face took on a contemplative look tinged heavily with exhaustion.
“In time, son, in time.” He’d levelled his gaze on me; the contemplation still there and then he had quickly changed the subject. I’d forgotten about it until I was staring at the ceiling of the tunnel, the packets of seeds only feet away, stashed in the secret compartment of the vehicle. The cases had fit perfectly, with no room for anything else, like the car had been designed just for this. Reg must have thought that the time to do something had come and he’d picked the most unlikely of heroes to see it done; me. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or throw up.
Chapter 12 – Breathe a Sigh of Relief
I awoke to the muted sounds of Jake and Blossom running the file. It was hard to tell how late it was, as the daylight only made it part of the way in to our camping spot. I wandered to the end of the tunnel to take care of my bladder and shuffled back to the group, all hovered around the tiny screen of the tablet. I noticed that Jake had rigged up the tablet to the HAM radio battery and found myself wondering how long the power would last.
I startled when an insta-meal bounced off my chest, but scooped it up gratefully and gave Cedar a smile. I slurped down the coffee flavoured gel and chased it with a couple of water tablets. All the digging yesterday had dried me out and I felt as crinkly as old cellophane.
“Any luck with the clip?” I asked feeling minutely better having eaten. I indulged in a good stretch and noticed that my arm muscles ached, but it was kind of a good feeling filled with a sense of satisfaction. Jake flicked his bangs out of his eyes and gave me a crooked smile.
“I dunno. There’s a lot of references to an ocean and that final quote mentions a boat, so I’m guessing the coast, but I’m not sure which one.” He paused and furrowed his brows, deep in thought. I could tell he’d been pondering the problem for a while. “Reg could have sent us east, just to get the cache, I suppose, but if he’s talking about the west coast, we’ve got a long haul and the supplies probably won’t get us there. I don’t know why, but I think we have to go east, I just wish I could find a clue in the clip that would confirm it.” He then scrubbed his face and ran his hand through his hair. It was my gesture and he’d somehow picked it up. It threw me a little, seeing that and I made a mental note to be careful about the habits I passed along to him.
“So, okay, I have a question,” interrupted Blossom. She stood facing me, hands on hips and fixed me with a dead eyed stare that I related to gunslingers in old westerns. “If plants make oxygen, how can we breathe out here?” She drew in a sharp breath through her nose, as if underlining her point and then let it out in a little whoosh through her mouth. I’d wondered the same thing myself, but took it on faith that I wouldn’t asphyxiate, since we’d been out in the Bee Zee for four days now and I was still alive.
“It’s obvious, replied Jake, “there are some plants out there.” His nose wrinkled in mild rebuke, “I mean; the oxygen has to come from somewhere.”
“Have you seen any plants?” Blossom turned her accusatory stare on to Ja
ke and I felt a little relieved not to be the recipient of it anymore. A blush ran up the back of Jake’s neck and he suddenly found a small stone at the tip of his shoe highly engrossing.
“Yeah, well we can breathe can’t we?” His counterpoint seemed to take a bit of wind out of her sails and I hoped we wouldn’t have to hear anymore italicized words.
“Lichen, that’s what’s producing the oxygen and, more correctly, sucking out the carbon dioxide,” offered Cedar, eager to stop the bickering. She looked like she might have a headache and I tossed her a package of water tablets, hoping they might help. She caught it easily and gave me a nod. She didn’t wait for our questions, but continued after swallowing a handful of pills. “My dad told me that back when things were looking really bad, some botanists developed a highly specialized lichen to try and save the planet from all the pollution. It didn’t survive very well in the lower areas because of all the pesticide sprays, but he thought that there might be fields of it up in the mountains and northern tracts of land.”
“Why were they spraying…if everything was so bad already, I mean, what was left to kill?” asked Blossom. Cedar smiled at that, but it was wistful and I could see that the memory of her father still haunted her.
“Cockroaches, there were millions of them. The little buggers just refused to die, so the government took it upon themselves to get rid of them.” She paused and I saw a ripple of revulsion roll over her. “Some people wanted to keep them…they were a good source of protein, but,” she grimaced, but carried on, “they were just gross. Yuck.” She ran her hands up and down her arms to dispel the goose flesh. So the indomitable Cedar had a little phobia after all, but I really couldn’t blame her. I could remember the horrible clicking sound of millions of cockroaches coming through the speakers as we watched the film in a governmental studies class. Creepy.
Last Farmer: Last Farmer Series - Book 1 Page 11
