Bloom

by Kenneth Oppel

  The floor caved in, and Maddox pitched forward into the maw of the pit plant. Seth lunged and grabbed the dog around the middle, pulling him back. Maddox’s front paws looked a little singed, but he was all right. “You’re okay, boy.”

  Seth played his flashlight beam on the pit plant. It trembled impatiently, hungry. Seth wanted to light it up with the torch, right now, but he worried he might start a fire in the house.

  He spotted a thick black vine growing over the shelves of bright preserves. The sight of the dangling berries made his mouth water, and he tried to ignore it. He followed the vine up as it branched across the wall and disappeared into the corners of the ceiling.

  The vines were growing through the house! He needed to tell Mrs. Antos. He was surprised all the noise hadn’t woken her up already.

  “Come on, Maddox!” he panted, hurrying up the steps. Maddox squeezed past his legs and ran ahead, limping on his injured front paws.

  When Seth reached the top floor, Maddox had already pushed his way into Mrs. Antos’s room. He was barking. A wave of sickly sweet perfume hit Seth as he entered.

  “Mrs. Antos?” Even now he felt a bit shy just barging into her bedroom.

  He heard no reply, and played his flashlight over the bed.

  He stared and stared, trying to understand what he was seeing.

  ANAYA DREAMED SHE WAS sniffing a flower and not sneezing at all. But she didn’t like the scent, or the way the petals tickled her nose.

  When she woke up, it was pitch-dark, and the unpleasant smell was still there—and terribly familiar.

  She tried to sit up, but it was like someone had tucked in the covers too tightly. Her arms were pinned to her sides.

  Something thin poked shyly up her nose, and she yelped. She jerked her head away, tried to yank her arms free. The thin, poky thing plunged deeper and Anaya gagged. She thrashed, kicking against the covers. Across her body, she felt things snap, and suddenly she could pull her arms free.

  She grabbed at whatever was inside her nose and ripped it out.

  “Mom!”

  That terrible perfume—it was the same as inside the pit plants. Anaya grabbed the flashlight on her night table and raced down the hall into Mom’s room. It reeked of sleeping gas.

  Anaya gasped. Mom’s entire body was crisscrossed with black vines. They grew across her face, covering her mouth. Two twitching tendrils had grown right into both nostrils.

  Anaya seized the tendrils and tugged. They slid out a little bit, then snapped. Mom made an awful wet choking sound. There must still be stuff caught farther back.

  Anaya peeled the vines off Mom’s mouth, parted her lips, and shone the flashlight inside. At the back of her throat was a dense tangle of vines, big as an egg.

  She slid her hand inside Mom’s mouth. Her fingertips dug into the knot, getting a good grip. She pulled. With a wet smack, a long, glistening tangle of vines came out. Mom coughed several times and gave a big sigh, but still didn’t wake up.

  “Mom!”

  Anaya shook her. The perfume had knocked her out cold. Anaya rushed to the window, tripping over a thick vine that had grown across the floor. Mom needed fresh air. Who knew what this stuff did if you breathed it for too long?

  She pulled back the curtains and nearly screamed because the window was webbed with vines, blocking the predawn sky. She tried to open the window, but the vines had welded it shut. There was a smaller window with only a couple of tendrils across it, and Anaya forced that one all the way open. Cool air streamed into the room.

  In the bathroom, Anaya got a mug of cold water, ran back, and splashed it onto Mom’s face. Gently Anaya slapped her cheek, then harder.

  “Mom!”

  Finally, she twitched, and her eyes opened slowly. She stared at Anaya blearily, then sat bolt upright, spluttering.

  “What the heck?” she croaked, spitting out bits of vine.

  “The vine was growing down your nose! It was strangling you!”

  Mom looked wildly around the room. Snapped tendrils littered the bed sheets. A thick, corded vine ran down the bedpost to the floor and disappeared into a crack in the baseboard.

  “That grew just overnight?” Mom gasped.

  “We should’ve pulled it all down yesterday!”

  Or maybe, Anaya thought, it was from an entirely different pit plant outside their house. Seething, she jumped off the bed and grabbed the vine near the wall. She leaned back, grunting and swearing and yanking with all her might. Mom’s hands seized hold just behind her own and together they pulled. Finally, it snapped.

  Anaya fell back on the floor, panting. “We’ve got to warn Dad!”

  “I know.” Mom grabbed her phone, dialed, and swore. “Still out of service. I’m calling Diane Sumner at the RCMP. Go pack a bag.”

  “Where we going?”

  “I’m getting us a plane, and we’re going to go find your dad.”

  “Good!”

  In her bedroom, she snatched some clothes off her messy floor, sniffed to make sure they were cleanish, and threw them into her backpack. There was a sharp knock at the front door. She raced downstairs just as Mom was opening it.

  It was an unfamiliar woman dressed in a navy-blue suit. The crest on her lapel made her look like a government official. Behind her, an RCMP cruiser idled on the road.

  “Lilah Dara?” the woman asked, looking straight at Mom.

  Anaya had never seen her mother’s face go so pale.

  “Is Michael all right?” Mom blurted, her voice cracking.

  Anaya’s stomach flipped over.

  “Michael?” the government woman said with a frown, then looked suddenly apologetic. “Oh my goodness, your husband. He’s absolutely fine, as far as I know. That’s not the reason I came.”

  “Thank God,” Mom said, sagging against the doorframe.

  “I’m so sorry. I did that very badly,” the woman said. She was about Mom’s age, with a big freckle on her left cheek, curly shoulder-length hair, and quick, intelligent green eyes. “My name’s Dr. Stephanie Weber. I’m a scientist with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. And this must be Anaya, yes?”

  Anaya nodded weakly, so relieved that Dad was okay.

  “What’s this about?” Mom asked.

  Dr. Weber said, “I’ve come because of your daughter.”

  * * *

  WHEN PETRA ENTERED the doctor’s lounge of the island hospital, Anaya and her mother were already sitting around a coffee-stained table with Seth Robertson. Anaya’s mom had her hand on Seth’s shoulder and was softly saying how sorry she was about Mrs. Antos, and Seth just nodded mutely.

  Petra already knew what had happened. After she and her mom had escaped from that giant pit plant, the RCMP had been swamped with emergency calls from all over the island. Seven people had died. Three who’d fallen into pit plants. Four who’d been strangled by vines while they slept—like Mrs. Antos. And then came the call that a scientist had arrived on the island and was looking for her and Anaya and Seth. Someone from CSIS.

  This must be her, the one in the blue suit, standing to greet her. Her smile made her look a bit like Jezebel on that reality cooking show, but when she stopped smiling, she looked more like Chelsea on the space-station show—except for that fetching little mole on her cheek.

  “You must be Petra. Thank you for bringing her, Sergeant Sumner,” she said. “I’m Dr. Stephanie Weber, and this is Carlene Lee.” She pointed to a woman with hair that had been bleached too many times. “Carlene’s a social worker with child welfare.”

  Petra supposed she must be here for Seth. Petra met his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to find someone strangled in their bed.

  “Please, sit down,” Dr. Weber said. “I didn’t want to start until you were all here.”

 
Petra took the seat next to Seth. The way he’d talked at the hospital yesterday had freaked her out a bit, all that stuff about his feathers, and the three of them being the same. Still, she was startled by how glad she was to be back in the same room as him and Anaya.

  Dr. Weber got right to it. “We saw the video from the field incident. You three were completely unaffected by that plant. The corrosive enzyme. The sleeping gas. There’s no other case where people just walked away. I also noted, from your hospital records, that none of you are allergic to the black grass pollen.”

  “You’ve read their hospital records?” Mom asked sharply.

  Petra rolled her eyes. Mom was very big on privacy rights. She didn’t seem to realize that no one had privacy anymore. No one even wanted it. You could probably find everyone’s hospital records on social media.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Weber. “I requisitioned them as a matter of national security. As of now, we’re in a state of emergency.”

  Petra’s mother looked grim, but not surprised. Had she already known? That would explain the shopping cart overflowing with chickpeas.

  “And not just here,” Dr. Weber continued. “Worldwide, we’ve got millions of people with severe allergic reactions to these plants. Acute asthma, bronchitis, pneumonia, sometimes fatal. We don’t know the long-term effects of exposure. A lot of our population is literally suffocating. That’s just from the black grass. And now we have an even more aggressive species.”

  “We know, believe me,” Mom said a bit impatiently. “And I’ve got an island to take care of, with only four officers. So what does this have to do with our kids?”

  Dr. Weber looked directly at Petra, then Seth and Anaya. “There’s clearly something very unique about you three.”

  Petra shifted uncomfortably. She was sounding a lot like Seth, talking about how they were all the same.

  “Your bodies have incredible natural defenses against these plants,” Dr. Weber continued. “If we can figure out what it is, we might be able to make a vaccine so others won’t be harmed either.”

  Petra saw her mother exchange looks with Anaya’s.

  “So you want to run tests on them?” Petra’s mother asked.

  “Yes,” Dr. Weber replied.

  “Shouldn’t you guys be worrying more about killing this stuff?”

  “Believe me, Sergeant Sumner, the military is taking care of that. But we also need to protect ourselves in the meantime. Especially since we’re dealing with organisms that aren’t from this planet.”

  A deep silence expanded through the room.

  “For real?” Petra exclaimed.

  “I thought it was bioterrorism,” Anaya said.

  Dr. Weber shook her head. “We’re not ready to tell the public yet.”

  “You’re saying these plants are aliens?” Anaya said.

  Petra swallowed. Once you heard that word, you couldn’t just unhear it. It ricocheted all over the place. She looked around: the chairs, the table, the grimy floor. These things were as solid and normal as ever, but they now existed in a world that also included alien life.

  “The term we use is cryptogenic,” Dr. Weber said. “Meaning: of unknown origin.”

  “You know for sure?” Anaya’s mother asked, leaning forward in her chair.

  “We ran DNA tests,” Dr. Weber said. “And there’s nothing like these plants on Earth. Not even close.”

  “How?” Seth said. “How’d they even get here?”

  “We don’t know for certain. Somehow, the seeds entered Earth’s atmosphere.”

  “Like on a meteorite?” he asked.

  “Possibly.”

  Petra frowned. “Wouldn’t they just all burn up, entering the atmosphere?”

  “Maybe not,” Anaya said. “Dad told me about the Murchison meteorite in Australia. It had organic compounds on it. Amino acids.” She looked at Dr. Weber. “Right?”

  “Yes. The building blocks of life. A big enough meteorite shower could’ve scattered seeds worldwide.”

  Petra didn’t remember hearing anything about a meteor shower. Wouldn’t that have made the news?

  “No,” she said. “Those seeds were in the rain.”

  “That’s another theory,” said Dr. Weber. “And the favorite right now. I’m more focused on protecting people from the plants than figuring out where they came from. Which is why I’m interested in you three, and finding out if we can make other people immune.”

  “What kind of tests would you do?” Anaya’s mother asked.

  “Blood tests primarily, allergy tests, some low-dose medical imaging. Since they’re minors, we need your consent.”

  Dr. Weber was already taking forms from her attaché case, and passing them around.

  “Seth,” Carlene Lee said, in the most soothing voice Petra had ever heard. “You have no guardian at the moment—”

  “What about Mr. Antos?” he asked, sounding surprised.

  “He’s too ill right now. He’s agreed to surrender his guardianship.”

  “Oh.”

  “So technically you’re a ward of the Crown. Do you understand what that means?”

  “Yep.”

  Seth’s voice was numb, but his eyes were wet. Petra felt her heart clench. She’d seen his eyes in the supermarket that time, and knew how much he cared about Mr. Antos.

  “So I’ll be acting as your temporary guardian, Seth,” said Carlene. “I don’t work for CSIS. I’m here to represent you. Nothing happens if you’re not comfortable. Okay?”

  Seth just nodded, his face hardened.

  “So I need to know if you’re okay with these tests, and if—”

  “I’m good.”

  “Thank you, Seth,” Dr. Weber said gently.

  Petra watched her mother carefully read the paperwork. She always read things before signing. She even read the stuff on the internet before she clicked.

  “You all right with this?” Mom asked her.

  She nodded. “Yeah, I don’t mind.”

  “You’re a medical doctor, I assume,” Anaya’s mother asked Dr. Weber.

  “Yes, and a biochemist. I have a team in Vancouver.”

  “Vancouver?” Petra said in surprise.

  “The hospital here doesn’t have the diagnostics we need.”

  “How were you planning on getting them over there?” her mother wanted to know.

  “The same helicopter I came in. It’s waiting on the pad.”

  “You mean right now?” Petra asked. She hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

  “That’s why we asked you to pack a few things,” Dr. Weber said.

  “No,” Anaya said, looking anxiously at her own mother. “I mean, I want to help, but we need to find Dad first!”

  “Ah,” said Dr. Weber with an understanding nod. “We’re very aware of your father’s work. He’s out collecting soil samples at the eco-reserves, right?”

  “We haven’t heard from him since he left,” Anaya said. “Yesterday morning.”

  “We might be able to reach him from the base,” said Dr. Weber. “They have more powerful equipment.”

  “Can’t you send a boat out for him?” Anaya asked. “What if he’s hurt?”

  “Anaya, there are people all over the country who need urgent help right now,” said Dr. Weber.

  Petra could tell by Anaya’s eyes that she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “Yeah, but he’s collecting soil samples that might kill the black grass, and the other plants!”

  She was starting to cry now, and her mother put an arm around her. “I’m sure he’s absolutely fine.”

  “I know how important your father’s work is, Anaya,” Dr. Weber said. “Most likely you’ll only be at the base two nights, three at most.”

  Anaya still looked miserable, but she
nodded.

  “I’d like to come as well,” Anaya’s mother told Dr. Weber.

  “I completely understand. But the helicopter only carries five passengers.”

  Petra quickly did the math. Her, Seth, Anaya, the doctor, and the social worker. No mothers. She glanced at Mom and was startled by the pang of alarm she felt.

  Dr. Weber looked sympathetically at both mothers. “I can arrange for another helicopter to come and collect you and your partners. As soon as possible. With luck, even later today.”

  “And I’ll be with them the whole time,” Carlene chimed in. “Until a parent is present.”

  Petra caught Mom giving Carlene and Dr. Weber her sternest RCMP look.

  “Your facility, where is it, exactly?”

  “The military base off Stanley Park. Deadman’s Island.”

  Petra almost laughed out loud. The name didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but she remembered the park from their visits to Vancouver.

  “And it’s completely secure?” Mom asked.

  “Absolutely,” said Dr. Weber.

  “What do you think, Diane?” asked Anaya’s mother.

  “They’ll be safer over there, for sure.”

  “I agree,” said Anaya’s mother.

  Petra watched their mothers sign the forms.

  “We’re very grateful,” said Dr. Weber, gathering the paperwork and slipping it into her case. “Oh, one last thing.” She produced two specimen jars and slid them toward the moms. “If you wouldn’t mind just spitting into the jar, we’ll be able to check your DNA as well, to see if there are any hereditary factors. Thank you. All of this will be a huge help in countering the invasion.”

  The word caught Petra totally off guard. “Invasion?”

  “That’s exactly what this is,” Dr. Weber told her.

  “You make it sound like it was planned,” Seth said.

  “Planned or not,” said Dr. Weber, “our planet’s being colonized.”

  Petra heard a helicopter’s rotors start to turn, somewhere outside. Dr. Weber’s phone pinged. She glanced at it and then stood. “We need to go.”

  * * *