The Uninvited Guest

(Part two of a short story series, based on writing prompts... written while trying to learn to fight brain fog and perfectionism)

Amelia woke with a start - she’d fallen asleep in the chair again. Her heart was pounding so fast that it felt as though it might escape her chest. She told herself that the knocking she’d heard had originated from her dream, tried to slow her breathing... and nearly jumped out of her skin when the sound repeated.

She peered out the window, but saw only darkness. It’s after curfew, she thought, glancing at the clock, this can only mean trouble. She tentatively approached the door, holding her breathe. As she looked through the peep hole, the tension in her body unwound... not a raid, a neighbor. She could handle this variety of trouble.

Amelia undid the lock but left the chain in place, opening the door enough to have a conversation, but not enough to suggest that she welcomed the visit. “Oh, uh...” He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Hers was not the face he expected. “I... is Carson here?” he asked softly. He held a plate out tentatively “I brought him some cake.” Amelia let out a defeated sigh “You’d better come inside before someone sees you.” The door closed momentarily as she released the chain, before opening it fully.

Amelia stood aside to let him in, then closed the door and secured it again, praying no patrols were passing. “He’s asleep” she said curtly, “and you could get us both into trouble by being here after curfew.” The uninvited guest looked more nervous than she was. He stared at her for a moment before a glimmer of recognition fluttered across his face, followed by surprise, then a hint of warmth. “Amelia? I’m sorry, you’ve grown since I last...” his focus was suddenly pulled to the doorway behind her. She turned and saw her father standing there, an uneven grin lighting up his weathered face. “Arlo my friend!” he exclaimed as he crossed the room to embrace his visitor, limping slightly. She watched Arlo try to remove the shock from his face before the embrace ended. Her heart softened; of course he didn’t know about the stroke.

Her father had been adamant that he could take care of himself when he returned home from hospital, and his joy at seeing her had quickly turned to concern when he saw her bags in his living room. She hadn’t understood why at first.

The embrace over, Carson’s eyes settled on the plate that Arlo was still holding. “Is that a piece of Dhana’s famous chocolate cake?” he asked, eyes lighting up. Arlo hesitated, then offered the plate to his friend. “It is... but it comes with bad news. The barn is being demolished tomorrow.” Carlson looked up as he removed the bioplastic wrap from the plate “Geez, I’m sorry to hear that! Will insurance cover the rebuild?” Amelia didn’t need to look at Arlo to know he was lost. She put a hand on her father’s arm and turned him towards the living room, “Go sit down. Arlo and I will make a cuppa and join you in a minute.”

Amelia waited until her father was out of earshot before turning to their visitor. “He had a stroke” she said, trying not to remember the fear she’d felt when she’d gotten the news. “When does he think it is?” Arlo asked, following her to the kitchen. She took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh before answering. “It changes. Right now? I’d say he has no idea just how special that piece of chocolate cake is. He spends most days back in the before.” she didn’t have to specify what she meant by that. The mere mention of the before times was enough to send both their minds back. “How did she get a hold of cocoa, anyway?” She asked as she pulled three mugs out of the cupboard in much the same way as she pulled them both from their shared reverie. Arlo looked uncomfortable. She understood, he had no reason to trust her. “Anyway,” she continued, letting him off the hook “when he came home from the hospital and saw me, he thought I’d been kicked out of school again, so that gives you some idea of how far in the past he is.” Amelia opened a large canister and spooned dried lemongrass into each mug, before adding hot water. “Every now and then something jolts him back to the present, and it’s pretty brutal. He feels like he failed me, as if there was something he could have done to stop this.” She searched Arlo’s face for any hints as she handed him his mug. He wouldn’t be risking prison just to bring chocolate cake.

Carson was finishing off the last crumbs of cake as they entered the living room, oblivious to the fact that it might be the last chocolate he would ever see. “I was about to send out a search party!” he joked, not sensing the tension. Amelia and Arlo joined him at the table, the former setting a mug down in front of her father. “Sorry, it’s lemongrass again.” she said in response to his confused look. Carson smiled at his daughter, “that’s ok, I’ll go to the supermarket tomorrow and pick up some coffee.” She didn’t correct him. He took a sip of the hot liquid, then rested the mug back down on the table, his eyes unfocused as he stared into it.

Amelia turned to face their guest, but kept her eyes on her father as she spoke. “So Arlo, you were telling Dad about the barn?” Arlo looked nervous, clearly regretting coming. His eyes darted back and forth between father and daughter, not sure who’s reality to speak to. “Yes... it’s been marked for demolition. It’ll likely be gone by this time tomorrow...” Carson’s voice sounded hollow, haunted, as he finished the sentence his friend could not “...along with the jars of illicit seeds.” he said as he continued to stare through his mug.

The silence lasted for what felt like an eternity, each of them deafened by their own racing thoughts. The exact thoughts varied according to the mind they occupied, but all followed the same general sentiment. How had the world changed so much that owning pumpkin seeds now amounted to treason? It wasn’t just pumpkin seeds of course. All plants that required help from external pollinators had become illegal. In the literal sense, they all knew how it had happened of course. Pollution had led to a global climate change crisis that many governments had tried to ignore; the urgent always taking precedent over the important as wars were fought, alliances forged, and power changed hands over and again. Eventually, climate change had sparked a domino effect that put key pollinators and everything that had relied on them in peril. What followed resembled the plot from some B grade dystopian novel that had been churned out in one week with little planning and minimal chance of a sequel. The upshot of it all was that hundreds of species of flora and fauna had suddenly become extinct or endangered, with any attempts at conservation unfathomably now classed as treason. Preservation was expensive, and the current government catastrophically shortsighted.

The sound of chair legs scraping against tiles cut through the silent cacophony. Amelia was standing. “I’m going to wash up.” She announced, picking up the glass plate that had held the slice of illegal chocolate cake, balancing 3 still full mugs on it, and leaving the room. She was 26, but had suddenly felt like a child whose presence was preventing the grown ups from talking. Voices drifted into the kitchen, and she realized she couldn’t give them the privacy she’d instinctively offered. She’d already heard enough to face time in prison. Besides, she couldn’t cover for her father’s memory lapses if she didn’t know what he might be forgetting. “What do you mean they’re all gone?” her father’s agitated voice carried clearly, despite his attempts to keep it low. “You told me they were safe until I figured out a way to deliver them!” She had to move closer to hear Arlo’s response “And did you? Find a way I mean... I know I was supposed to wait to hear from you, but I got worried.” Her own breathing almost obscured the response. “I’m sorry,” her father’s voice was heavier now “I had a plan figured out, but once Amelia took over the store it was too dangerous. I signed up for this... she didn’t.” Silence again, then another scrape as someone stood.

Amelia entered the room in time to see Arlo stand. “I’m sorry I put you both at risk by coming. I guess I just wanted to see a familiar face. It was really good to see you Carson.” The men exchanged somber nods, before Arlo headed for the door. Amelia unlatched the door, pausing before she opened it. “The seeds aren’t really gone, are they?” Arlo smiled gently, genuinely “Denial is a powerful tool.” He stepped out into the darkness, leaving her to ponder his words. Which of them was in denial? Him for coming even though the seeds were gone? Her for hoping that that had been a lie? Her father for spending most days with his mind in the past?

She walked back into the living room to see her father taking a notebook out of his desk draw. “What’s that?” she asked, suspecting she already knew. “Nothing of any significance now. But it’s probably best to get rid of it all the same.” he said, handing it over before heading towards his room. ‘Denial is a powerful tool.’ No, not a state of mind... a legal defense. With that sudden realization, Amelia rushed to the kitchen, gabbed the glass plate Arlo had left behind, and headed out into the night. She placed the plate in the basket of her bike - it wouldn’t hold up as a defense for breaking curfew, but it was a cover story. A curfew charge was better than treason. She had only ridden two blocks when she saw lights up ahead. A patrol had pulled over to charge someone. Not just someone... Arlo. They’d caught Arlo. She turned a corner and pedaled faster. She had to get to the barn. He wouldn’t have risked arrest for a piece of cake. The seeds must still be there. Her legs were burning by the time she reached the farm and headed down the dirt road to the barn. Her heart raced and her fingers shook as she fiddled with the latch on the door, straddling the bike awkwardly in an attempt to save time. The door finally open, she rode inside, her eyes zeroing in on the jars in the corner; there wasn’t much else left after the raids. She balanced her bike against the far wall and removed the plate from the basket, placing it on the ground. She picked up a jar... so much hope and danger was inside. She placed the jars one by one into the basket.

A rumbling sound outside startled Amelia. She crept to the barn door and peeked out... headlights danced along the driveway. Either the patrol or the demolition team - it mattered little which - she had to get out of here fast. She removed her cardigan and placed it over the basket, tucking the fabric in between the jars to stop them from rattling. She wheeled her bike over to the back door. Her hands worked more smoothly this time, getting the door open in seconds and maneuvering her bike through the doorway quietly. She heard the trucks pulling to a stop as she closed the door. She didn’t look back as she rode away, there was no point. There was only one path left to take, and she was already on it. She just hoped that the plan set out in her father’s notebook would be enough to save the precious cargo.