In Constant Fear (10 page)

“I wouldn't believe anything that guy told me,” Lile croaked, plainly determined to dismiss as much of this as she could.

“Me neither,” Gordie agreed.

Lena turned to me, a frown on her face. “Why did you go to see Doctor Simon?”

There was a brief but undeniable hesitation. “Just . . . to know what was going on,” I replied.

She looked decidedly suspicious, like she had plenty of other ideas, and I thought I might be well advised to change the subject. “Anything happen around here?” I asked. “Anything at night?”

“Nothing I heard,” Jimmy replied, as if, if
he
hadn't, then for sure nor would anyone else.

“Thomas slept better,” Lena informed me, plainly hinting I was far too keen on picking the little guy up when he cried.

I chuckled, leaned across and gently poked him in the ribs. “He likes our little father-and-son chats.”

Delilah, assisted by Hannah and Gordie, cooked up a meal, everyone plainly delighted to be back together again; this sense of relief that bordered on denial. The moment everything was eaten and cleared away, Lena was up and taking my hand, ready for bed,
fortunately unable to see the smirk on Delilah's face and completely ignoring me when I said I really should take a shower first.

We made love with more enthusiasm, more gratitude maybe, than we had at any time since Thomas was born. The little guy provided us with some fairly noisy accompaniment at one point and I could feel Lena noticeably stiffening, almost on the point of stopping, but in the end she decided to just ignore him and keep going.

I was that tired after hiking over the mountain on no sleep there was no chance of me checking outside that night; in fact, for once I actually slept right through. I woke a little after six, going out onto the porch and scanning around as if I'd be able to tell if anything had happened—but no, it all looked pretty much as it should—well, apart from one thing.

I could hardly believe it. That wheat had not only grown another three or four inches, it'd started developing some pretty ripe-looking ears, too. I squatted down and took a closer look, feeling almost intimidated by how fast it was growing. It looked so damn healthy, too; such a vivid green, the stalks so strong and erect.

A few minutes later, Jimmy came out on his way over to the barn.

“Have you seen this?” I called.

He strolled across, the closer he got, the more impressed his expression. “Cool!” he cried. “Nick said it was good stuff—MSI GM.”

“Careful where you stand—it'll go straight up the leg of your pants,” I told him.

Jimmy laughed heartily, for once exposing that gap in his bottom teeth he was so self-conscious of. “We'll be baking before you know it,” he said, still chuckling to himself as he continued his walk to the barn.

For the rest of the day I kept going over to check. It was unbelievable—a real agricultural phenomenon—by late afternoon it had grown a further two inches. In fact, it didn't look so much like it was growing as
rising up
, as if something underneath was pushing it out.

I brought Lena out, walked her amongst it, thinking she'd be as excited as I was, but she didn't really seem to get it, maybe 'cuz she couldn't actually see what was happening, that we were now
coming out of the front door to be met by a whole sea of burgeoning green life.

“Remember how you grew that stuff in the tunnels?” I said, feeling compelled to put it into perspective. “This is like two whole
fields
of it: the richest, greenest crops you could ever imagine. It's beautiful.”

She nodded, standing for a moment holding a stalk of the wheat in her hand, but still not appearing that impressed, and I wondered if it was the thought of something familiar changing that was damping her enthusiasm. She smiled, made some light comment, then headed back to the house, and for the first time in a while I noticed she was checking her wires to make sure she was going in the right direction.

That night we made love again, but Thomas got the better of us this time, interrupting a man when he least wants to be interrupted. I forgave him enough to use him as an excuse to go outside later, to walk him around the farmyard, even going over in the direction of the woods at one point, listening intently, but there was nothing 'cept the occasional echoing call of a distant owl.

Maybe I was wrong about all this? Maybe the Bitch and her Bodyguard didn't have the slightest idea where we were, our little paradise felt peaceful and trouble-free once more. In fact, the way that wheat was bursting up out of the ground, I couldn't help but think that in some way it was a shining omen of an even brighter future.

I thought my sense of wonder couldn't possibly be tickled any further, but the following morning when I went outside, believe it or not, that wheat had not only pushed up a few more inches, it was showing signs of starting to ripen! I wasn't met by a solid sea of green this time, but the occasional ripple of something closer to gold. It was amazing. It truly was. Some of the ears looked almost ready to be harvested: bulging with life, with the seed we hoped to grind into flour.

I was so in awe of what was happening that it went through my mind that maybe it was that little bit too good to be true, that it was growing at such a rate it wouldn't be able to sustain itself. There's this creek that runs down the side of the property. At some point the adjacent spread (twenty times our size, but with all its outbuildings and farmhouse burned down) must've blocked it off and diverted it across their land, but since everyone had upped and left, Mother Nature had obviously decided to right a wrong and start it flowing our way again. I'd been thinking we should clear some of the old irrigation channels, and with the wheat growing so fast and possibly needing a little extra water, now would be a good time to do it.

After breakfast we formed a working party: Lena, Gordie, Hanna, Gigi and me. Delilah stayed behind to look after Thomas, as she often did now—Lena being younger and stronger than her, while Jimmy was obviously also playing to his strengths, concentrating on much more important things out in his workshop—stuff that didn't involve manual labor.

By the time that we'd finished, we'd managed to get several channels cleared and running in the direction of the fields. It didn't seem like it was enough; the ground was lapping the water up long before it reached its destination, but it had to be going somewhere—and I wasn't sure it was needed anyway. Like I said, I'm a city boy and this farming was all trial and error—who knew how those new types of seed worked?

Late in the afternoon, Delilah came out with Thomas. The little guy'd just woken up from his afternoon nap, all dazed and dozy, but he was starting to fidget in that way that usually preceded some fairly loud demands for food. She handed him over to Lena like he was a bomb that was about to go off, giving a short sigh of relief, then stepped back to take her first close look at the wheat.

“What's this?” she asked.

“Wheat,” Gordie told her, like she wasn't being too bright. “For the bread.”

“Wheat?”

“Yeah.”

Delilah grunted, stepping forward to take a closer look. “Spent some time on a farm when I was a kid. Wheat didn't look like this.”

“They changed it,” I told her.

She gave a long sigh, turning away as if she'd lost all interest. “Can't anything stay the same?” she grumbled. “Not even plants? Why we got to alter everything? What good's it done us?”

In a way she was right: changing stuff hadn't done us as much good as we'd hoped; on the other hand, it hadn't done us as much harm as we'd feared either. I mean, let's face it, no matter how much we try to alter things, we're only here for a while—Nature's the constant.

After we'd eaten and played with Thomas for a while, the little guy eventually heading off to snuggle down with the Sleep Fairies, Lena suggested we went out for a ride on the tandem, and despite it getting late, I thought it might be kinda fun.

It's amazing how much I've taken to that thing. I'm an ex-big guy, for chrissake—I drove every kinda of transport there was, and most of it was fast and furious. That tandem looked like it was the free transport to the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. But something about us going out on it, combining my efforts with Lena's, made me feel like we were a real team.

We gently meandered along the road for a while, enjoying its relative smoothness, then turned up this track, heading through the forest and up toward the first real hills of the Interior.

It's funny; I'd always thought people instinctively sought out high ground 'cuz they wanted the view, but Lena enjoys it as much as I do, so I guess there's something else going on. Maybe it's spiritual, trying to get that bit closer to heaven? If it is, then I gotta say, we did a pretty good job that day, what with the view, the sunset, the final whispers of the day, the way we were holding onto each other like it was the first and last time. It was all we could do to give that final sigh and drag ourselves away.

We started off back down that track a damn sight faster than we went up, and with the light fading, where the trees were at their thickest, my old eyes were really starting to struggle and I had to keep hitting the brakes, bringing us almost to a halt so I could work out which way the track was going, then gather up a bit of speed again. Even then there were a couple of occasions when we almost came off, but you know, just when I started to think it might be safest to walk, I felt her hands on either side of my hips.

“Keep going,” she said.

“I can't see,” I told her, feeling that bit embarrassed.

“Keep going!” she urged, starting to twist my body this way and that, and I realized she was intent on doing the steering for me.

“Lena!” I protested, again hitting the brakes.

“Clancy . . . trust me!” she cried impatiently.

It wasn't easy—I mean, she was blind, for chrissake, how could she possibly see better than me? I kept slowing and stretching my fingers out for the brakes, but each time I did she got more and more irritated.

“
No!
” she shouted angrily, and I knew it'd become something of a test: that I
had
to trust her, I
had
to go along with what she was saying—otherwise what sorta relationship did we have? But she was trying to direct me through areas where the forest was so thick I could barely see, and at speeds I wouldn't've been comfortable about in the daylight and out in the open. A couple of times she left it so late, I braced myself for the impact, but at the last moment she swerved me away from the tree looming up before us. The irony was, the deeper, the darker, into the woods we went, the more I became the blind one, the more she became the one who could see.

It was those special skills of hers again, that she'd acquired down in the tunnels those four years she'd spent alone underground—the ones I'd once mistakenly thought the Doc wanted her for. She could hear sounds bouncing off hard surfaces—in this case, I guessed, the trunks of the trees—and maybe she was cross-referencing that with her sense of smell to map out what was around us.

Whatever her method, I gotta say, it made for one of the most hair-raising rides of my life as we slid one way, then another, the two wheels at the back scrambling to maintain grip, threatening to skid right off the track. Lena was whooping and laughing away, having the time of her life, maybe 'cuz she knew that if we
did
hit a tree, I was gonna be her personal airbag.

At last the forest began to thin and I could feel her insight fading; the fewer trees there were around us, the closer she was to being blind again. Fortunately, with more light, I was able to regain control.

“Want to go again?” she laughed.

“Nah. Not really,” I replied, trying to sound like I just couldn't be bothered; but you know, when we reached the road, I felt so damn pumped up, I started laughing along with her.

“You're a miracle and I love you,” I shouted.

She took me completely by surprise, throwing herself at me, wrapping her arms around mine—no way could I keep control, and we veered off the road and into a nearby tree with such accuracy, you might've thought I'd aimed for it.

We had to walk the last couple of miles, still chuckling away every now and then, knowing we'd be in big trouble with Jimmy for buckling the front wheel of his invention, but in a way, it was the perfect end to a perfect evening, when even what went wrong was right.

I put my arm around her as we went to enter the house, still unable to resist taking a quick glance back: I gotta say, that valley looked about as quiet and peaceful as an angel's graveyard.

I was actually hoping, even expecting, not to see that view again that night, what with clearing the irrigation channels, going for our tandem ride and just the general mood of contentment between Lena and me. Any normal person would've followed that up with a good seven or eight hours of honest slumber—but not me.

Thomas got going a little after two, in full cry, though it was actually Lena nudging me that really brought me around. I stumbled over to the wardrobe, almost tripping over my boots and sprawling headlong. Yeah, I love him, he's my own little guy, my flesh and blood, but there are times . . .

I took him outside, the night dull and dim, the moon covered by a dozen different veils—the world itself sleeping.

I don't know how long it was before I knew something was wrong. I'd just been doing my usual thing, pacing around the farmyard, jigging and shushing Thomas, when suddenly I felt it: this sense that in the deadness of night, the world was actually coming to life. I stopped, holding the little guy that bit closer to me, staring all around us, trying to work out what the hell it was. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, just this sense of . . .
movement
! It wasn't the wind—there was none to speak of—but there was
something
: a force, a dissipating electricity leaking out into the night, faintly crackling all around me.

The first one I saw, I didn't even put the two things together. I suddenly noticed something was crawling up my leg: small, black, moving quite slowly—maybe some kinda weevil? But no sooner did I realize that was what it was then I saw others making their way up my pants, over my boots, covering the ground around me—there were
thousands
of them! No wonder I'd had the feeling the world was on the march: an army, a crawling black, wriggling army was encircling me and now venturing up my body.

I started to back away, trying to work out what direction they were traveling in so I could hopefully step aside. I thought it must be some kinda migration, but the moment I changed direction, they did the same. I turned to run but they were all around me, more and more of them, their gathering mass slowly turning my pants black, crawling up my back and front. I tried to brush them off, to sweep them away, but it wasn't easy with a baby in my arms. They were everywhere, and the most disturbing part—that at first I couldn't believe—was that they seemed to be targeting Thomas, finding their way into his blanket, navigating the tucks and folds, doing their best to get to the little guy.

I brushed one off his soft, little head, another from his arm, at the same moment aware of several wriggling down my neck and starting to crawl around inside my shirt. Thomas began to wail, no doubt panicked by what he couldn't understand, maybe by my distress, and damned if one of them didn't try to scuttle into his mouth. I swept it away and stamped on it. Jesus, what kinda nightmare was this?

I ran toward the house, squashing them underfoot, stripping the little guy as I went, throwing away his blanket, his clothes, even his diaper. I could feel them sneaking around all over me, finding any way in they could: up the legs of my pants, my sleeves, down the front of my shirt—my whole body seemed to be wriggling and squirming. But it was the way they were converging on Thomas that was really spooking me, as if they somehow knew this tiny, unprotected baby was the vulnerable one, the weakness they should exploit.

I burst through the front door, ran through to the bathroom and turned on the water; Gordie soon following on behind, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Block the front door!” I cried, sweeping weevils off me and Thomas, stamping on them the moment they hit the ground. “Anywhere they can get in.”

For a moment he just gaped at me, barely believing what he was seeing, then he ran through the house, calling to Hanna and Gigi to come out and help.

I juggled Thomas from one arm to the other while taking off my clothes, the little guy still wailing as loudly as he could, even before I was naked, jumping into the shower and washing those things away, crushing them before nudging them toward the drain.

Suddenly Lena appeared in the doorway. “What's going on?” she asked, bewildered.

“I dunno. Some kind of weevil,” I told her. “There are thousands of them out there.”

“Is he okay?” she said, Thomas's crying not having lessened a single decibel.

“Yeah, just a little spooked,” I told her, trying to sound as calm as I could. “I think a few might've got in the house.”

Without another word, she went to see if she could help. I could hear Jimmy and Delilah joining in, the sound of stamping feet mingled with the shrieks of disgust echoing throughout the house. As I got out of the shower, a weevil fell from my hair onto Thomas's chest and immediately scuttled up his neck, trying to get to his face. I flicked it off and stamped on it. The body had a kind of hard shell that crunched beneath my foot, but there was something soft, almost liquid, inside.

“Shall I take him?” Lena asked, again appearing in the doorway.

I handed him to her; the little guy still giving it all he had, flushed and bulging, as if he was constipated or something, and she took him away, shushing him as she walked through to the bedroom, I guessed to try to calm him with a feed. I dried myself and wrapped a towel around me before grabbing my clothes, opening the window and throwing
them out. I'd deal with them later. A couple of weevils fell out and down onto the floor and went scampering away to hide, but I managed to stamp on them, then returned to the shower to wash my feet.

When I finally went out, the others appeared to have the situation under control; still finding the odd insect crawling around, but one by one killing them off, leaving the floor covered in this slippery greenish liquid.

“What the hell was that about?” I said.

“Some kind of natural phenomenon, I guess,” Jimmy said, looking as disturbed as anyone. “Like a plague of locusts or something.”