The Gardener (17 page)

“Nice timing.” I was pretty sure she had been behind the glass, but I decided to play along.

As we walked down the hallway, I tried to orient myself, keeping track of lefts and rights. Not that it would do me a lot of good, other than getting me back to the green room with the books. I had no clue where to go from there.

Eve walked fast, but I had no trouble keeping up. A humming grew louder as we reached a pair of double doors so tall I would have had to jump to touch the top, and wide enough for a good-size car to drive through. She set both hands on the silver bar, like she was ready to push, but she paused. Turning just enough that her profile was visible to me, she asked, “Do you frighten easily?”

Now, there was a question I’d never been asked. “No,” I replied, although I had to work hard to keep my voice steady.

“Excellent.” She pushed the door open and stepped forward. “It would be best to stay very close to me.”

As the door opened, the humming intensified into a buzz as a rush of warm, moist air hit me, along with a bright, blinding blast of light and the smell of flowers. Shielding my eyes with one arm, I stepped inside the room. The surface under my feet was cushioned, almost bouncy. Squinting up, I saw the ceiling was about twenty feet high, made of bubbled glass. And as my eyes adjusted, I saw the room was easily the size of a football field. But the sheer enormity of the room wasn’t what stopped me in my tracks. The occupants of the room did.

I held my arm closer to my eyes as I blinked, trying to figure out if what I saw was real. Rows and rows upon more rows of kids—some looked my age, some younger—all sitting on the floor, their eyes closed and their necks bent back, faces turned upward toward the light. Small monitors sat in front of each one, a brilliant blue emanating from every blank screen. Each kid wore some sort of tight green bodysuit that covered almost all their skin. But the material was thin, so thin I could almost see through it, but not quite.

Were these people?

Eve stepped closer to the first row of them, beckoning me to follow. Peering at the kid nearest me, my eyes ran gradually from his face, pale in the sunlight, but luminous, almost sparkling. There was no expression, yet he seemed placid. I gazed at the other faces around him, all bearing the same expression, sort of a blank serenity, an outward satisfaction that didn’t seem to go any deeper. My gaze left their faces and went back to the first kid, down to his chest and arms and crossed legs—

And then I saw it. Each kid was on a raised platform, about six inches off the floor, with a hole beneath. Snaking up from the hole were clear, shiny tubes that showed a green liquid inside. And the trail of the tubes ended inside the back of the kids’ legs, into holes the same circumference as the awful scars on the back of Laila’s legs.

I was in a garden. A garden of humans.

I must have gasped. Eve grabbed my arm and squeezed, shushing me, but I couldn’t help it as the words fell out of my mouth in a near shriek. “What have you done?”

Slowly, as one, every kid in every row as far as I could see turned their heads toward me. Their eyes were so dark they seemed black, even in that bright light, and the buzz of the room became louder and louder, making me cover my ears as I started to back away. With an echoing click, the light went out. All those eyes, still focused on me, shone in the dark, their skin reflecting enough light to reveal movement as each kid, again in unison, reached out an arm toward me.

Something brushed my ankle and I screamed like a girl.

The buzz filled my head.

Eve yanked on me, her nails digging into my arm as she pulled me toward the door. Her whisper was vicious. “Shut up, will you!”

And I managed to keep my mouth shut as she backed us through the doors and closed them, cutting off the buzz and turning it back into a mere hum.

She let out a deep breath before turning to me. “Did I not ask you to be quiet?”

“No, you didn’t!” My hands were shaking and I leaned against the wall to keep from falling. “You asked if I frightened easily. You could have given me a few details before you showed me that—”

With one trembling finger, I pointed toward the door, half scared it would open up and those kids would start piling out, one after another, hands reaching out for me. “That place. Holy crap, what is that place?”

“The Greenhouse.”

My hand flew over my mouth. The Greenhouse. Was that where Laila had been before Haven of Peace, the place she could remember only in snippets? My knees bent and I slid down the wall, slumping on the floor as I sank my head into my hands. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, as I imagined Laila in there among those kids. But I had to know. I had to know everything.

“What are those kids doing in there?”

Eve’s hands fluttered a bit before she said, “Essentially, they are saving the human race. In fact, they are the future of the human race.”

“How can you say that?” The picture of them all turning to me in unison, eyes dark, faces expressionless yet sinister at the same time … “They’re not human.” They couldn’t be.

Eve tsked. “They are as human as we are. They simply have enhancements that we do not. Enhancements that will help them survive the disasters that are sure to leave you and me as dead as dust.”

“But how could you do that to Laila?” My eyes narrowed. “Your own daughter. How could you?”

“How could I
what
? Do all I can to ensure that she survives what the entire current human race cannot?”

“No.” I put a hand on either side of my head and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get a grip. “No.” Eve was insane.

Opening my eyes, I asked, “How could you put her through that, make her live like that?”

Eve shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She gestured at the closed door. “You see only the surface, the outside. Clearly, you have no idea what’s going on underneath.”

“Yeah,
clearly
.” Getting my feet under me, I stood up. “I may have no idea what’s going on underneath, but the outside looks pretty frickin’ messed up. How many kids are in there?”

“These are all questions you should save for the Gardener.”

“Bull! You’re the Gardener! That’s why Laila was so freaked out by
The Runaway Bunny
. Her own mother is the Gardener.”

Eve rubbed her neck as she watched me, and her expression changed from defensive to something else. “I’m not the Gardener.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” She turned and headed back the way we had come. When I didn’t do anything, she stopped. Without looking back, she said, “You may want to follow me.”

Glancing at the double door, I shuddered as I caught up to Eve and followed her down the hall. On the way back to the room with books, she took a left where we should have taken a right, and I lost my bearings. But there was nothing to do about that, so I quit trying to remember the lefts and rights. Which gave me a chance to ask questions about what I’d seen. “In the Greenhouse, what is that light?”

“Sunshine, perfectly replicated.”

“Their faces looked like they sparkled.”

She stopped before a door and turned to me. “Their clothing covers everything but their hands and faces, and for those we use a sunscreen, made of calcium carbonate crystals. Ultraviolet and infrared rays are deflected, but photosynthetic ones are not. A form of it is used in Australia for fruit crops that get damaged by the sun. Once testing is done in the U.S., it will be a big seller for TroDyn.”

Nice, use humans as guinea pigs before fruit. “How handy for you.”

Her hand rested on the silver knob. “Here we are. The Gardener is waiting for you.”

Maybe my earlier gut reaction had been wrong about Eve. Maybe she was only what she said she was, the assistant. But I was sick of the runaround. I just wanted answers, no matter how horrendous they were. “Is it the person behind the mirror again?”

“No. You’ll be meeting the Gardener, face-to-face.” She tilted her head slightly. “Personally, I think you are nowhere near ready for this. But it’s not up to me.” And with a quick twist and push, she opened the door.

Even though my heart was pounding, I thrust my chin in the air and walked into the room. There was nothing extraordinary about it; it looked like a reception area. A red couch sat in front of one wall, while the other wall was one big mural. On the opposite side of the room was another door, and I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to walk through it or not.

Deciding to wait for further instruction, I paused to look at the mural.

The painting was of men on horseback. The first horse was white, its eyes and mane wild, and the man on his back wore a gold crown and held a drawn bow. Behind him was a red horse, again looking as untamed as the first, but its rider held a sword.

The third horse was black; its head was down, nostrils flared. The rider carried what looked like a pair of scales. And the last horse was a pale, greenish color, and seemed to be plodding as the others raged. Its rider was clothed in a white shroud and held a plain staff.

But that wasn’t the part of the picture that disturbed me.

Underneath the four horses were scores of bodies, some of them still alive, reaching up, either to ward off the horses or plead for help. I couldn’t tell which. And from the looks of those riders, if those people %
were
pleading for help, theyweren’t getting any. Behind them all, the sun was an eerie red.

A buzzer sounded and I jumped.

The door opened slowly, mechanically. A hint for me to go through, I guessed. Taking a last glance at the mural, I walked to the door and held on to it for a moment. My hand shook and my heart beat faster.

As much as I wanted to find out the answers to all my questions, it took everything I had to take the first step through that door.

The first thing I saw was a platform, about two feet high, that went from one side of the room to the other. A massive desk sat on top, and behind the desk sat a man in a white button-down shirt. His skin was darker than mine, as was his hair, which was clipped very short, gray speckling the edges. He was handsome, with big striking eyes and delicate features.

A curtained window lay immediately behind him and, despite not really knowing my way around, I was fairly certain the green room with the books lay beyond the glass.

My gaze went back to the man behind the desk. He was looking at me. No, not just looking. He was staring, studying, his eyes fixated so strongly that his forehead was wrinkled as he seemed to be trying to memorize me.

I could tell he was looking at my scar and, not really thinking, I reached up with a hand to cover it.

“Welcome. I’m Solomon.”

Solomon. So unfamiliar.

“Your scar. Does it bother you?”

But that voice. So familiar.

“Not anymore. Not really.” I swallowed. “I’m used to it.”

“It’s become a part of you.”

“Yes.” Where had I heard that voice before?

Then it came to me.

I staggered backward, grabbing for a chair.

I’d heard that voice for the first time when I was five, the voice I’d heard hundreds of times since then. Always reading
The Runaway Bunny
.

The man behind the desk, Solomon, was the man on the tape.

Solomon was my father.

And my father was the Gardener.

W
ORDS LEFT ME AS
I
SANK INTO A SOFT GREEN CHAIR AT THE
base of the platform, looking up at the smiling man.

He said, “I’m glad to see you.”

Nothing. Even if I could speak, what would I say?

“I realize this must be a bit of a surprise.” He rubbed his chin, looking a little puzzled. Maybe he thought I’d gone mute or something.

I cleared my throat and sat up, trying to pull myself together. Although I wanted to, I couldn’t come right out and ask—

“You’re wondering if I’m really your father.”

I nodded.

Solomon smiled. “Whether you want me to be or not, I am.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of pictures. He held one up. An eight-by-ten of me in sixth grade. He flashed a few others, all my school pictures. “Your mother sent them.”

“But how…” I didn’t even know what to ask.

“Your mother worked here, for me. And as sometimes happens when people work closely, they fall in love. Then she disappeared. Fortunately we were able to find her and bring her back.”

I asked, “Why?”

“Why did she leave? She was going to have a baby, you, and didn’t want anyone to know.”

My voice came back. “Because she didn’t want me to be part of the project.”

He nodded. “She thought that I would force her to hand you over.”

“Did you?”

His brow wrinkled. “Of course not. Do you think you’d be living as you are if I had?”

I shook my head.

“I loved your mother and respected her wishes. My only request was that she stay in Melby Falls.”

Which made me wonder something. “Request? Or demand?”

“I’m no monster.” Solomon drew in a deep breath and sighed. “I arranged for her job at Haven of Peace. I arranged for a monthly stipend.”

The fund Mom kept talking about. She wasn’t lying after all. “But you stopped paying that. I saw the notice.”

He frowned, then jotted something on a piece of paper. “That’s odd. I’ll mention it to Eve and get it taken care of.” He continued explaining about my mom. “She would still be part of the project, yet she’d have you to herself, to raise as she wished. Besides, I knew I couldn’t be a proper father to you, eating breakfast, leaving for work, coming home to play catch in the backyard.”

God, the times I’d wondered why I didn’t have a dad to do those very things. How many times had I asked my mom why I didn’t have a dad like everyone else? I wanted to know. “Why? Why couldn’t you?”

He held out one hand, palm up. “Because I was already committed here. My work was here.”

“The autotrophs.”

He nodded. “I couldn’t let a family distract me from such crucial work. So the next best thing was to know you were close.” He gestured to a shelf on the wall, filled with DVD cases. “Choose one.” He pointed. “There’s a computer over there.”