"You can make a variety that can pick itself?"
"I am going to create our own variety. I believe I can take out that fungus problem. I was planning to use Melissa's favorite Coronation farm to run some field tests. But no, that's not the good news. Guess."
Dreamer started throwing empty peanut shells at Momaka when she wouldn't spill the secret. Wizard joined in until they ran out of empty shells. Wizard threatened to empty the sack of peanuts over her head.
"Any surplus harvest can be frozen and peanuts will last over a year in that state."
"I've died and gone to heaven," Dreamer said.
# # # # # # # #
Down in Surrey, Lucas thought that he had died and gone to heaven too. The girls had looked at him when he arrived, asked him his name (Lucas) and what grade he was in (home schooled). Then they ignored him and went back to their conversation.
Lucas wasn't listening. He was thinking. They don't know me; I don't know them. I don't ever have to come back here again if I don't want to. They can't find me if they went looking. There's nobody around who can see this part of the field.
So he joined the crowd, positioned himself a little to the side of one girl who looked non-violent, and slowly and slyly put his left hand on her boob.
She looked down at the hand and then ignored him.
"Lisa!" one of the girls said. "Can't you feel what he's doing?"
"So what. He's cute."
Lucas gave them his most winning smile and tried to look non-threatening. A difficult task for somebody who was as thick in the chest as he was now.
Lisa went on talking and sucking on a piece of electronics. "OK, that's enough. Take your hand of my boob, Lucas."
Lucas did but slid into position behind a second girl. Once again he gave them a hand with their conversation.
Since the pack leader had declared her acceptance of Lucas' strange way of communicating, the second girl tolerated him for a minute or two. Then she said, "Take your hand off my boob, Lucas."
Lucas made it halfway around the circle before a girl put her arms across her chest. He simply went on to the next girl. By the time a buzzer had sounded, he had achieved eight "Take your hand of my boob" instructions, one crossed arm rejection, and one snarly "In your dreams, jerk!" He was planning to go around the circle again when the girls drifted off towards an open door, ignoring him completely.
# # # # # # # #
"Processing?" Wizard asked Momaka.
"Leave them in the shell for best storage. Refrigerate them or put them in a dark dry place. They'll last up to six months and you can still sell them. Or you can roast them and sell them that way. However, shelling them would take some machines."
"One building, one or two assembly lines for roasting, one or two assembly lines for shelling," Dreamer said.
"One very large refrigerated building," Wizard added. "Are the shells useful?"
"Farmers can use them for compost or they can crush them for mulch." Momaka had all the answers.
"Peanut butter manufacturing?"
"Start with the same processes of shelling and roasting used earlier. Afterwards, take roasted peanuts and grind them into a paste. Add salt or sugar for flavour. It's not as simple as that, but there's no reason that you can't have a building that shells the peanuts, a building where the skins are removed, a building for roasting, a building for grinding, and so on."
"Percentage of population that might be interested?"
"I can't say. Peanuts are very high in protein, fiber, healthy fats, and minerals. They're not nuts, they're actually vegetables. No reason that they couldn't be an important part of everybody's diet, especially if priced right. You can also manufacture peanut oil for cooking. They are also used in desserts, especially chocolate desserts."
Momaka had saved the magic word for last. Chocolate. Wizard wanted to sell chocolate desserts and candies. Momaka's proposal was now all but approved.
"Dreamer and I should probably talk with the farmer in Ontario."
"Try the one in southern Georgia instead. His crop is already in the ground."
# # # # # # # #
"Lucas."
Lucas turned around. A girl was sitting on the log fence next to the woods. He hadn't noticed her before. She had probably seen the whole thing.
"Come here," she said.
Lucas shrugged. No harm in it. He looked her over as he approached. Blond curly hair down to her shoulders; pink sweater of some kind with a big curly capital C on it in red. Red skirt, red belt, and red shoes. She looked nice. She wasn't sucking on a nicotine plug at least. As he got closer, he could see that she was a little older than the girls he had already met. The nails on her hands were manicured and they were painted red too. She had boobs too. Actually, those were the first things that Lucas had noted. I'm putting them last in the physical description so you won't become tired of hearing how Lucas' mind was working these months.
"You probably won't get away with that again. Those girls won't want news spreading about what they let you do."
"S'alright. One time is good."
"Never try to do that where a boyfriend might see. A boyfriend will feel it necessary to slap you around."
"OK. Thanks. What's your name?"
"Candi with an i."
"Hi. Lucas with an L."
"I heard."
"You go to school here?"
"No. I'm a tutor. I help students learn things. I give one-on-one classes."
"What'cha teach?"
"Science. Like the plants in a forest. I take my pupils on field trips into the woods. That's better than reading books in a classroom."
"How old do you have to be to teach?"
"I'm 22," she said.
"Do you have many students?"
"Enough. I have a little rush of business at noon and after school. Nothing right now, as you can see."
Lucas fumbled into his backpack and found a chocolate bar. He pulled it out, peeled the wrapping off it, and took a bite.
"Do you have another one of those?"
"Yeah. I usually make my brothers buy them."
"How much for one chocolate bar?"
Lucas had to think. For his brothers, he'd probably ask for a quarter. But Candi was nice and she had warned him about the boyfriends. "Nickel," he said.
"I'll let you put your hand on one of my boobs instead."
"Done."
Back to the Table of Contents
Chapter 13
It was the first week of February before Lucas could return to the Surrey school. Candi had said that he would have to bring money next time. She didn't like chocolate bars all that much; she also told him to wash his hands before he came because she only had one good sweater.
Lucas saw her sitting on the fence next to the woods, landed, and came up from behind her. "Hey."
"Hi Lucas. I thought you had forgotten about me."
"No. I had to work for my Dad to earn some money. It took a while. We don't have much money around." He fished in his pocket for the nickel and showed it to her.
"A nickel? That's kind of insulting, isn't it?"
Lucas was confused. Last time, he had given her a chocolate bar worth a nickel and she had been happy enough to get it. "That's all I earned."
Candi had to re-think. She saw that Lucas appeared to be heartbroken. And he had had to work for his nickel. The boys in this school had money handed to them as rewards for simple things like brushing their teeth. That was the reason she was tutoring here. "OK. A nickel this time. But only for a few minutes. Next time, bring me more money."
Candi gave Lucas a full five minutes. She even let him change hands and boobs. When she heard the buzzer and saw a lanky teenager heading towards her, she pushed Lucas' hand away and warned him. "I gotta go now. One of my students is coming. He has an exam tomorrow and needs my help to study. You have to get lost. Stay out of the woods. He won't like being interrupted. Private lesson, you know."
So Lucas went
in the opposite direction and passed the student on the way. He seemed like a keen learner. He was almost running. Getting tutored must be more interesting than home schooling.
# # # # # # # #
Double-Tom's stint in the prison cooler lasted into February. The morning after his new cellmate had arrived, four guards had arrived at the cell, chained him, and walked him to the solitary confinement unit. They deposited him not too gently into the tiny cubicle and refused to tell him why he was being put there.
When the same four guards reappeared on February 6th, they brought him back to his old cell. "No, No, No," Stu said to the head guard. "I distinctly said that he wasn't to be returned here." From that point, Double-Tom couldn't hear the quiet conversation going on between the head guard and the Japanese crime man. But he did hear the head guard calling him "Mr. Stu" and he was clearly trying to please him.
Double-Tom was more interested in his old cell. Gone were the bunk beds with their flimsy mattresses. In their place was a comfy looking single bed placed against the back wall. The bed came complete with a canvas canopy that at night would block out most of the light from the overhead lamps that were always on. The toilet was now enclosed inside a folding bamboo Japanese screen. In the middle of the cell was a heavy-duty table with a comfy executive swivel chair behind it. This was where Mr. Stu had been sitting before he started complaining about his unexpected visitor. The table was covered with papers that had a whole bunch of words on them.
The cells to the right and to the left were empty and showed no signs of recent occupancy. Instead, each contained a high bookcase with five shelves that held some very big books. Mr. Stu could access these bookshelves simply by putting his hand through the bars. They had been custom-made to place the bottom of the books precisely at the same level as the bottom of the cell's horizontal bars. The three cells facing Mr. Stu's office were empty and showed no signs of recent occupancy either.
Double-Tom heard the end of the discussion. "We had no other alternative, Mr. Stu. The warden had to put three prisoners into a single cell last night. We'll try to move him soon."
"At least put him in a cell next to me. That way I don't have to look at him."
And that's how it was done.
# # # # # # # #
Due to his lengthy stay in solitary, Double-Tom had lost his old cushy job and was assigned to sweep the floors in the visitor area of the jail. This is where prisoners and their lawyers would meet. It was a large open area on the ground floor with tables and chairs arranged for maximum privacy considering the guests were inside a maximum-security prison. Visitors were searched before they entered the prison. Guards were stationed around the outside walls to maintain order, but they didn't begrudge prisoners holding hands with their spouses and children. During visiting hours, Double-Tom mopped the floors around the outside of the visiting room. After visiting hours, he cleaned up the room itself, emptied wastebaskets, washed the tables, and washed and waxed the floor.
It was to this exact visiting room that Double-Tom himself was brought one week after his return to normal prison life. A man was waiting for him behind one of the tables. He was young. Aboriginal. New shiny suit. Brown leather briefcase. Briefcases walked into this prison with lawyers attached to them.
The young man's first nervous words were: "A serious charge has been brought against you by a Mrs. Wanda George of Clearwater. She claims that you murdered her daughter, who was your wife Frances, in 2075. She also claims that you murdered her daughter's friend. She has given the prosecutor the exact day and time that these murders allegedly happened. She says there was a witness."
I saw no witness! Japanese crime man still getting back at me?
"I have been assigned to defend you." The lawyer pulled out a legal pad. "You should tell me everything you can that will allow me to prove your innocence. I should tell you that murder is a capital crime and a prosecutor can bring an alleged murderer to trial at any time provided he has sufficient evidence."
D-T gave the lawyer all the details that he could remember. He was down in Surrey with his buddies and came home to find his dear wife missing and presumed dead. His buddies could testify how broken up Double-Tom had been. That should be sufficient. Two witnesses for the defense, one witness for the prosecutor and that witness was just a fake to try and pressure him. Still, Double-Tom had the distinct feeling that he might be in trouble here. The lawyer they had saddled him with had admitted that he had never defended a single court case although he had attended some trials. Meek as a sheep was lawyer Wolf.
# # # # # # # #
Double-Tom confronted Mr. Stu the second the guards left them alone in their cells. "Are you setting me up for murder because I didn't give you the bottom bunk?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
D-T told him what had happened, emphasizing that he was completely innocent but had been given a teenage lawyer.
"I need some details about when and where these alleged murders took place," Mr. Stu said. He pulled out a legal pad, asked some questions, and wrote down Double-Tom's answers. Mr. Stu went to his bookshelves, found the book he was looking for, flipped through some pages, came back to his table, wrote on a notepad, tore off the page, and passed it through the bars.
"This crime was allegedly committed in the Aboriginal Nation. Like B.C., they can bring an accused murderer to trial any time. An alleged killer cannot hide behind any statute of limitations. But unlike B.C., the Aboriginal Nation considers that anybody who has been missing for more than seven years can be declared legally dead. Have your lawyer check to see if anybody has filed a missing person report on either of these two people. Also have him check if anybody has submitted a request to the court for the missing person to be declared dead. If so, you can't be convicted of murdering a person who is now officially dead. I've written down a case number which your lawyer can use as a precedent."
"Is this going to get me off?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. It will depend on how aggressive the prosecutor is and how badly your ex-mother-in-law wants you dead. But it will delay your trial."
"Are you a lawyer?"
"Oh, yeah."
# # # # # # # #
Double-Tom was on cleanup duty the day that a Japanese lady met with Mr. Stu in the visitor hall. Mr. Stu went to the very back of the room and sat down with his back to the wall. The lady sat opposite him, put a briefcase on the table, and opened it. The little aboriginal girl that had accompanied the lawyer lady sat next to Mr. Stu. Pretty thing. Hair done up in two black pigtails. Short orange skirt. Tight sleeveless orange T-shirt. Double-Tom started sweeping the floor near the back of the visitor hall. The high windows forming that room gave him a clear look at the table where Mr. Stu was talking with his lawyer. From his location sweeping the floor, Double-Tom could clearly see that the little girl was holding Mr. Stu's hand under the table. She was six years old at best.
The meeting took about half an hour. The lady lawyer was obviously taking directions from Mr. Stu who handed her a folder full of papers that he had brought with him from his cell. At one point, she handed over a formal document of her own. He took it but did not open it. As the lady lawyer and her little friend left, Mr. Stu ripped the document in two and threw it into the nearest wastebasket. The little girl looked at Double-Tom as she passed. Double-Tom returned the look and slipped into one of his favorite daydreams.
# # # # # # # #
Dreamer and Wizard had finally made it down to southern Georgia to talk to the peanut farmer. He confirmed all that they had learned from Momaka and from other research they had done on their own. He was even willing to sell them some of his peanuts for seed stock. Wizard wanted more sacks of peanuts so that they could find out how easy they were to use for food preparation and desserts. Especially desserts. He gave the farmer a medium-sized order. The farmer suggested that they look over his current crop and he gave them directions to a mature field. Meanwhile, he'd fill Wizard's order from the peanut
s in his freezer.
They could have used the rented copter that they had come in, but Dreamer suggested that they sling there. The farm was deserted. So they did. They flew over the first ridge, past fields that were bare soil, and over a second ridge. When Dreamer saw the field of yellow flowers, she panicked and drove her sling into the ground.
Back to the Table of Contents
Chapter 14
Momaka couldn't clean the dripping vomit off Winnie's clothes while she was standing on the prison tarmac, so she bundled her up in her arms, slipped between two empty copter transports, shimmered into invisibility, and whipped home with only the one sling to carry the double weight. She mind-messaged Yolanda that Winnie had become violently ill the second she had emerged from the prison.
Momaka carried Winnie into her bathroom, placed her under the shower, turned the water on, adjusted the temperature, and closed the curtain. "Rinse that stuff off your clothes, undress, and throw everything out here. Turn the water as hot as you can stand. Your mom will be here soon."
Winnie did as she was told although she was still dazed from what had happened. One second she had been leaving the prison; the next second she had been convulsing everything she had eaten that day into the air around her. "I'm alright now, Momaka."
"Stay in the shower, Winnie."
Yolanda arrived. "I'm here, Winnie," and she opened the curtain. Momaka left the room.
You can stay, Momaka.
Best for you to be alone with Winnie, Yolanda. I'll be outside if you need me.
What happened? All Winnie had to do was hold Stu's hand.
She was fine inside; she began projectile vomiting as soon as she got outside.
Why?
Double-Tom was pretending to work behind us. He would have looked at her. She may have looked at him.
She's shivering in a steaming shower.
Get her dry, dressed, and into bed. I'll be back.
# # # # # # # #
Momaka returned with a small flat case, knocked on the bedroom door, and entered when Yolanda told her to come in. Is she still shivering?
Yes. Her eyes are closed. Her hands are in tight fists.
She's locked into a dream. I need to see Winnie's bare back. While Yolanda was turning Winnie over and raising her top, Momaka opened up the case and placed it on the bed. It held dozens of long narrow needles. Soon, Momaka had inserted the needles into Winnie's body and Momaka was manipulating them, one at a time. "Acupuncture," she said in case Yolanda didn't know. "We should talk out loud so that Winnie can hear our voices."