Double Helix Ch. 10

"It's a little enclosed," Tilly said, the first words she had spoken in over an hour. "That's good for hiding us from prying eyes. Bad if we need to make a sudden escape. Can you stop here?"

I brought the truck to a stop and she got out and walked around it, heading away from the warehouse building. I suddenly felt horribly exposed with her walking about in the open, in the light of day. I turned off the truck and got out to follow her.

She stopped at the back fence. The tall wooden fencing behind the chain link stood only a few inches back and rose about six feet. Tilly sprang up, catching the top bar of the chain link and holding herself up at waist level. She surveyed the other side for a moment before dropping back to the ground. "The parking lot on the other side is open to the street," she said. "If we were blocked off on this side, we'd just have to crash through the fence to get out."

The truck still bore the dents on the bumper and front grille from when Nissi had done that very thing, the night we had escaped Seattle. I was sure that it would have no trouble crashing through these two fences, if it came down to it.

"Let's have a look inside," I suggested.

The door rolled to one side when I pulled the latch and dragged it backward. The warehouse had been picked clean of anything of value, even the wiring stripped from conduits and lighting fixtures cut down and hauled away. The skylights overhead had been shattered, the glass still littering the concrete floor. There was a tattered mattress in one corner with springs visibly protruding, and some strips of dirty cloth that might have been blankets.

"I don't think anyone is likely to stumble in here by chance," Tilly said. "A homeless person lived here once, but I think they are long gone."

I wasn't sure how she could tell that just by looking. Maybe she would have smelled if someone had lived here recently, but it was unlikely in any case. The post-Rot world had been particularly hard on the homeless. Most of those who refused to join government work programs or didn't qualify for disability had starved to death within a few months.

"We should go," I said. The decrepit remains from a world that had once boasted so much wealth and activity was depressing. Tilly took one last look around before following me out to the truck. I drove back onto the road and headed north, looking for a likely place to park the truck and wait. The marquee of a church proclaimed, "Parking for churchgoers only. Violators will be baptized." I chuckled and turned into the empty lot. I took the truck around behind the church and parked in the shade of a massive oak tree.

Tilly dug through the bag on the floorboards and brought out the meals that Nissi had prepared for us. We each had one large rice ball and a small tub of applesauce. Tilly handed one to me and dug down for a pair of plastic spoons. "Have you ever gone to church?" she asked.

I unwrapped the rice ball and shook my head. "Look, I'll be candid with you. I would just as soon we speak as little as possible."

"Okay," she said in a tone of resignation. She rolled down the window on her side and angled her body away from me.

I ate the rice ball slowly, chewing each bite twenty times before swallowing. It was one way to fool your body into thinking you were getting more food than you actually were. When I was halfway through it, I wrapped up the rest in the foil and set it aside to eat after a little while. Tilly did likewise, sighing as she put it down, though, like me, she was no doubt still hungry. I watched her, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the vitality of her movement as she watched the squirrels cavort in the branches of the tree. I turned away before my thoughts could betray me into real emotion, something she might smell or hear.

Minutes passed in silence. There was nothing to do but sit and stare at the rather unremarkable scenery. If I had been thinking ahead, I could have brought a deck of cards for solitaire or Stansy's book, which I had yet to finish. "Why did you want to come on this trip, anyway?" I asked.

Tilly looked over her shoulder at me. "I thought we weren't talking."

I sighed. "I changed my mind. We've got another ten hours to wait and I'm bored."

She shrugged as she turned towards me. "I just wanted to help, Norm. You were concerned that this seller might just turn us in to the FBI, so it made sense. I thought we went over this. There's no reason for you to be angry."

"So it had nothing to do with wanting to get me off alone with you, to have me to yourself?"

She gave me a look of hurt and indignation before very deliberately turning away again.

"I don't understand you," I complained.

"No, you don't. And you create conflict for the sake of maintaining your illusions."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind. I don't want to feed into your anger."

I started to give a bitter retort but stopped. She was right. I was trying to start an argument. I wanted to be mad at her. "Fine," I said. "We'll talk, just like calm, rational human beings. So you had only the best of intentions in stepping in to come on this trip. And it apparently made no difference that I told you to stay away from me."

"I've done my best to respect your wishes," she said, "but I refuse to put you at risk, to risk your life. Not when I can do something about it."

"You're putting me at risk by coming. What if we're stopped and searched on the way back?"

She raised a brow at me. "Oh? And you think without me here, they would just overlook the contraband food you'll be carrying?"

"Fair point," I said, "but at least we wouldn't be risking you, too."

"Norm, if we don't make it back with this food, none of this matters. We've got, what? Two weeks? Less, probably. We have to make this work, and we have to find ways to keep doing it, or we might as well just give up now. The agency isn't going to take us back. We're not going to find a boat to take us away. You hold out hope, but I think you know, deep down, that we're on our own."

I would have expected her tone to be bitter, but instead she was merely earnest. "I don't understand," I said. "If you think that this is pointless, why go on at all?"

"I didn't say that. I said we were on our own. I've been researching farming technology. I want to build our own greenhouse."

She had my interest immediately. "How would you do it?"

"I would use the money that Sasha collected. We would need power for filters to scrub the air and water, and I want to do what you and Sasha did and add a CO2 generator. It will be an acre of effective arable land, plus a bit extra for sterilization, irrigation, and storage. We would set up on the edge of the north field, so we could use the creek along that side to draw from for irrigation and not overuse the well. It will be subdivided into sixteen airtight compartments serviced by a corridor down the middle to minimize loss in case of infection. If I had some drafting paper, I could draw it for you."

"You want to enclose an entire acre? How much would that cost?" She was talking about a space almost the size of a football field.

"About a hundred and twenty thousand," she said without hesitation. "That's the construction materials, seeds, ventilation, tools, the irrigation equipment, enough fertilizer for the first growing season, and shipping. We would have to do all of the construction ourselves, and it's going to take about three months to get it all put together if everyone works through most of the day. The last big hurdle is getting someone to conduct the transaction and delivery. I'm hoping the guy we're meeting today can handle that."

Sasha's bank accounts now held over a hundred thousand dollars. "We'll still come up short," I said. "And how will we feed ourselves in the meantime?"

"I talked to Catalina about that. She says she can get us fifty thousand dollars from a trust fund in Chile that ordinarily goes to helping expat genemods. That money is sitting idle right now anyway. Combined with Sasha's money and taking out what I need for the greenhouse, that's enough to feed us for months while we set up and wait for the first harvests to come in."

"Will an acre be enough land to feed all of us?"

"Ordinarily, not quite," Tilly mused. "I'm counting on a production boost from the extra CO2, and a year-round growing season. In fact, my calculations predict a modest surplus, even after we all go up to an average 2500 calorie-a-day diet. We can sell that extra back to our new contact and generate a steady income. That, we can in turn use to fund expansion of our facilities. I want to try aquaponics, small scale to start."

I didn't know what aquaponics was, but that wasn't important at the moment. It was a grand vision, and I found myself reluctant to accept it. I had been wrestling with impossibilities, watching faint hopes steadily fail, and I was starting to become jaded. But the idea, subject to a few important factors, sounded plausible. Assuming her abilities matched my sister's, Tilly's genemod brain put her something like twelve standard-deviations outside the human average, and it sounded like she had already run the numbers and assessed all the risks.

The more I thought of it, though, the more I saw how this was our best hope. With no support and no way to leave the country, we had to start producing our own food or we would be subject to the fluctuations of the black market and the uncertainty of the criminal world. "It's . . ." I struggled for words. "It's amazing. This could actually work. We could survive, thrive even." That was assuming the Department of Agriculture didn't discover our unlicensed farming facility. "One problem, though. Dan said the DoA does inspections of the orchard from time to time."

Tilly nodded. "Yes, unfortunately, we'll have to sacrifice a whole crop any time that happens. I'm designing the walls to be collapsible in a controlled manner, using pulleys, springs and motors. We'll put up an earth berm on the south side that blends with the natural landscape so that, collapsed, it will all be below sight lines unless someone walks over and looks right down at it. It sucks, but hopefully we won't need to do that too often. I think Dan said they've only come out twice in the last six years, and the last time was just over a year ago."

It seemed like Tilly had thought of everything. Barring an FBI task force showing up on the property looking for us, or an aerial survey, we should be safe and self-sufficient. "We should tell the others about this," I said. "I think they'll all love the idea."

"I would like to finalize some aspects of the design first," she said, "but I think you're right."

I settled back in my seat, still marveling at the possibilities. I couldn't stop grinning. It felt like I had been relieved of an enormous burden. We weren't out of danger, not by a long shot, but we had something to live and hope for, a future. I realized that I had completely abandoned my plan to try to ignore Tilly as much as possible, but I was glad she had shared her idea with me.

"So, any other world-shaking ideas you want to share with me?" I asked.

Tilly nodded. "I think you should put Nock in charge of the network project."

I was taken aback. "Really? Why?"

"I take it he's never told you about his past. His first company was a real estate restoration firm. He started with two employees and a general contractor for hire and turned it into a three-hundred employee company with twenty million a year in annual revenue when he sold it. His second was a venture capital firm that became one of the top twenty in the world at its height. Nock had assets worth over a half a billion dollars when the Ban occurred. The government seized it all."

It was staggering to even consider owning that much money and property, let alone losing it all. I felt like I was missing the point. "So he's good with money?"

"He's a brilliant administrator, and yet his talents are completely wasted. If you want someone to build this network, find talented people to manage it, protect it, and expand it, Nock is your best person for the job."

"Won't Stan be upset?" It had been his project, his idea, after all.

"Don't get me wrong, Stan is a great software designer and programmer, but we're quickly getting out of his element. I think he would welcome the chance to let someone take over the job of talking to people, setting up meetings, and pooling talent. Then he could get back to programming, and Nock would be doing what he loves to do."

"Okay," I said, "I'll consider it." I had never seen Nock truly happy about anything. It would almost be worth it just for that.

We chatted for a few hours and then Tilly curled up on the seat and took another nap in the late afternoon. I envied her that ability, even if it was triggered by a scarcity of food. I ended up taking a few short walks near the church to occupy myself. We ate dinner, a kind of soup made from various canned vegetables, after the sun had gone down. At 10:30, I started up the truck.

"Are you ready for this?" I asked.

"Yes. I'll be on the alert the whole time we're there. If I think something is wrong, I'll sneeze twice."

I looked over at her, incredulous. "You can make yourself sneeze?"

"Yeah." She tilted her head back and threw it suddenly forward with an explosive exhalation. She sniffed and brushed her nose with a knuckle. "I just have to imagine a tickle in my nose. That triggers it."

I would have to ask Nissi if she could do that. It was a neat little trick, if limited in usefulness. "Alright, two sneezes means we need to get out of there." I frowned. "What if you just get some dust in your nose or something?"

She shook her head. "You worry too much, Norm."

"Uh huh," I said, and put the truck in gear. We pulled up to the warehouse twenty minutes early. I drove around to the back, but there were no other vehicles. "I hope we haven't been stood up," I said.

"Let's give him time," Tilly said. "Why don't you cut the engine? I'll be able to hear better that way."

I complied and her eyes focused into the distance. "I don't hear anyone."

At 11 PM, we got out and approached the back door to the warehouse. I wrapped my knuckles on the big metal door.

"Movement," Tilly whispered.

We stepped back and waited. After a moment, the door rolled back a few inches. A middle-aged black man with salt-and-pepper hair regarded us through the opening. "Can I help you?" he asked. "We're here to buy," I said. "I spoke to you this morning."

He nodded and opened the door further. He peered around us at the truck and scanned the parking lot. "Alright, come on inside." He stepped back and we moved carefully into the dank interior of the warehouse. A pool of warm light from a hooded kerosene lamp hung from a girder and illuminated a metal bench and table. The man slid the door closed and led the way, apparently not seeing us as a threat as he turned his back to us without hesitation. He gestured. "Have a seat."

The table and bench had been cleaned of dust and grime. He sat first, and Tilly and I took our places opposite. "So, you scoped the place earlier?" he asked.

I didn't try to deny it. "We wanted to get the lay of the land," I said. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I have my means. That's fine. You've a right to be cautious."

"You're cautious too," Tilly said. "Is that why there's a girl with a rifle up in the rafters?" She lifted a finger and pointed to her left. I looked, but deep shadows cloaked everything more than about twenty feet away from the lamp. I couldn't see the ceiling at all except for right overhead.

"Very good," he said, leaning back with a smirk. "You can't be too careful in this line of work. Don't worry, Casey won't shoot you unless you try something stupid. How'd you know she was up there?"

"Oh, I have my means," Tilly said.

The old man laughed. "I like you already. Call me Andy."

"I'm Norm," I said.

Tilly nodded. "Tilly."

"So let's get down to business. How much are you folks looking to buy?"

"We need essentials like rice," I said. "Vegetables, soy some oil and—" He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "No, no, we'll work all that out. Just give me a number in calories."

I wanted to buy a month of food if possible. I started the calculation in my head of eight people at 1200 calories a day for a month, but before I had even inventoried our daily needs, Tilly answered. "Three hundred thousand calories."

He nodded slowly and pulled out a pocket calculator to punch in a few numbers. "That'll run you eighteen hundred, unless you want any high-dollar items like fish, dairy or coffee."

"Fifteen hundred," I said.

"Seventeen," he said. "All my merchandise is high-quality and well within the expiration dates. I'll let you inspect everything before any money changes hands. You won't get that deal from another seller."

"Sixteen," I said.

Andy shook his head. "Sixteen seventy-five, and I won't go any lower."

"Sixteen," Tilly said, "and I'll guarantee you an order for at least twice that at your original asking price, in one month's time, on condition that you deliver it to a place of our choosing in Corvallis. That's assuming that we like your merchandise."

He rubbed at his chin. "Delivery to Corvallis will cost you. It'll be four-thousand."

"Throw in two pounds of coffee today," Tilly said, "and you've got yourself a deal." She put out her hand.

The man looked over at me. I had been ready to stop when he said he wouldn't go lower than sixteen seventy-five. "I would take her offer," I said with a grin.

Andy laughed as he took her hand and shook it. "Deal." He put a finger to his ear and addressed the air. "How's the perimeter, over?" He seemed to be listening, and nodded. "Good. Let me know if anything changes, over." He looked back at us again. "Let's go have a look at your merchandise."

He led us back to the door and opened it to reveal a cargo van that hadn't been there before. A woman with hard lines etched in her face, Native American by the look of her, sat in the driver's seat and regarded us as we approached. "Shouldn't be long, Abby," he said, patting her arm through the open window. He took us around to the back of the van.

"Is she your wife?" I asked.

He grunted agreement. "We ran a little whole foods shop downtown before the Rot came. That was a family business, and so is this one."

He opened the windowless doors. The back of the van was filled with large plastic containers with lids. He grabbed one by the handle and pulled. It slid free and dropped heavily to the back bumper. He grabbed the other handle and lowered it to the asphalt. The latches popped free on either side and he lifted the lid, revealing the bin to be stuffed with food. "This is all non-perishables. Rice, soy powder, corn flour, dry beans and canned goods. You can take two of these as is or swap some of what's in here out for perishables. I go by weight though. You get the most calories with what's here."

We traded some of the rice for items on the list Stansy had made, but didn't make any other changes. Anything we swapped traded from about a two-to-one up to a four-to-one weight ratio, reflecting the higher cost of items that were fresher but had a shorter shelf-life. He pulled out some frozen cod to show us, tempting me with the prospect of something I hadn't tasted in nearly a decade, but that traded at about a twenty-to-one ratio. I wasn't in a position to spend fifty dollars on one pound of fish. When we were done, he handed me two small bags of coffee. "Open one of those and take a whiff. It's imported direct from Costa Rica."

I inhaled the pungent, earthy scent and felt my mouth instantly water. I handed the bag to Tilly. She breathed in deep, closed her eyes and sighed. "It's been a while," she said.