I gasped. "You think this is what is happening in Webster and the Green Swamps as well, don't you? That's why you came down here. To find similarities?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. We're getting closer, but I still don't understand fully. Tell me, is it some kind of government experiment trying to alter our plants that has gone terribly wrong? Is it nuclear waste that has created these mutant plants suddenly attacking us? A genetic experiment? GMO? Oh, I know, they were trying to make a weapon, right? For war, oh, my, and then it got out of control. Or is it Global Warming and climate change? But I gotta level with you, that would be the most boring version."

  Pete shook his head. "Nope. None of those, I’m afraid."

  "Okay, so tell me what. What is it? What are we talking about here?"

  Pete turned his head and looked at me. Our eyes met briefly, then he turned away. "You won't believe me."

  "Ah, come on. After all I’ve been through? Just tell me, Pete."

  He shook his head. "You'll laugh at me just like everyone else, laugh and call me wacko, cuckoo, and whatnot. I’ve been here before, Patty. I know how it sounds."

  "I promise. I won't," I said, putting a hand on his arm. He looked at me again. I smiled reassuringly. "I just want answers. I deserve to know."

  Chapter 59

  "So, what do you suggest we do now?"

  Mayor Ingram looked at Billy. They had been walking for a couple of hours and Billy was now so exhausted he simply sat down. The grass seemed to have grown even taller since this morning and it was like it was endless when he looked up at the sky. An airplane was crossing high above. Civilization seemed farther away than ever.

  Billy exhaled. He felt so thirsty. This had to be the worst hangover he had ever had. For a second, he wondered if he would ever have more or if this was simply it? He also wondered if they would both make it out, or who of the two would. Would they end up eating each other? Who would eat the other one first? Would he wait till the other died on his own, or simply force death ahead of time, to secure his own survival?

  Billy had never killed anyone and he wasn't sure he could, but then again, maybe to survive? Wasn't it true that when it came to survival, humans could do the most incredible (and sometimes horrifying) things? Things they had never imagined they'd do before?

  He remembered reading about someone who had been on a ship, somewhere in Scandinavia, when a fire hit and they had to get off the boat in a hurry. He remembered the guy telling in an interview how he trampled other people to get out, how his instinct was to only save himself and how it tortured him afterward that he had only thought about himself, but he believed all sense and compassion was lost in the moment of pure survival, pure terror. But he had to live with himself for the rest of his life, knowing he had trampled on even kids to get to the rescue boats before everyone else.

  Were all people that way? Billy wasn't sure. What was the name of the boat again? Something with an E. Billy shook his head. It didn't matter.

  "I don't know," the mayor replied.

  Billy could hear the exhaustion in his voice. He had been out here longer than Billy and it was wearing on him. It was visible on his face too, and especially in his eyes. The sun was still burning on them from above, and even though the grass was tall, there really wasn't any shelter or shade. The thirst made Billy imagine things, but he didn't tell the mayor about it. Instead, he wondered if the mayor felt it too. The sensation of despair, the feeling that they weren't going to get out, even if out wasn't that far away. Billy wanted to scream, but there wasn't enough spit in his mouth or air in his lungs.

  He kind of looks like a cool beer, when he’s standing like that, Billy thought when looking up at the mayor. He could even see the droplets of condensation on the sides of it. And taste it. He could almost taste it. What he wouldn't give for a sip of a beer right now. Just one sip.

  Or, maybe I could just lick the drops off the sides. They look so refreshing…so nice and refreshing.

  Billy rose to his feet, his head tilted to the side. He stared at the giant beer and approached it, his eyes glistening just at the thought of the sizzling sensation on his tongue.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" the beer asked. "Stop looking at me like that. It's creepy. Billy, Billy Bob!"

  "Just one sip. It won't even hurt. I promise it won't."

  Billy felt a pain on his face when the beer slapped him. "Stop it," it said, its voice shrill. "You're acting crazy."

  Billy felt his cheek, then shook his head and looked again. The beer was gone. Only Mayor Ingram was there. What a bummer.

  "Come on," he said and grabbed Billy by his shirt. "We have to keep moving or we'll never find a way out."

  Chapter 60

  Allen was sitting at his desk when he felt it. He had been on the phone all morning explaining to all the suits up in Ohio why they were so far behind schedule and had just hung up when the trailer started to shake.

  "What the…?"

  It lasted for only a few seconds, and then stopped just as abruptly as it had begun.

  "Lisa!" Allen called.

  His secretary poked her head in.

  "What was that?" he asked.

  She looked frightened. "I…I don't know, sir."

  "You felt it too, right? The shaking?"

  "Y-yes, sir. I crawled under my desk. It felt like an earthquake."

  Allen slammed his fist into his desk. "But we don't get earthquakes in Florida. This is a swamp. Look around, there are no mountains!"

  "I know, sir, but…"

  "But what?"

  "It sure felt like one. Besides, it has happened before. Earthquakes here in Florida. Last year we had one in July, out in the ocean, but that turned out to be an explosion, the U.S. Navy was testing the seaworthiness of a new vessel."

  Allen stared at her. "Do you see any ocean here? Any U.S. Navy vessels? No? Well then that can't be it, now can it?"

  "Probably not, sir."

  "All right, then. Go back to work."

  She nodded and left. Allen picked up his pen from the floor. As he lifted his head to sit back up straight, it happened again. This time the shaking was so bad, he slammed his head into the bottom side of the desk.

  "Ouch!"

  The trembling stopped and Lisa was in his doorway. "Are you all right, sir?"

  Allen growled and sat up straight.

  "Guess that was another one," she added.

  "Guess so," Allen said and picked up his favorite cup from the floor. The handle had broken off and the coffee spilled.

  "Let me take care of that," Lisa said, her voice quivering slightly.

  As she bent down, the shaking began again, this time so violently, it felt like the entire trailer was being picked up by a giant kid who thought it was a rattle. Lisa screamed and fell to the floor. Allen crept under his desk, arms covering his head, while all his stuff, pens, papers and even his laptop fell to the floor.

  When it finally stopped and Allen dared to crawl out, he spotted Lisa, still on the ground, shaking, covering her head with her arms. "It's over, Lisa," he said and put his hand gently on her arm. "It's over."

  She stopped screaming and looked up at him, tears in her eyes. He helped her up.

  "Oh, my gosh," she said, panting. "I thought I was going to die."

  Allen looked into her eyes; he too was about to cry, but he couldn't. Crying was a weakness, one he couldn't afford. But the urge to cry wasn't the only emotion Allen felt at that second. There was also something else, something he had suppressed for far too long. The desire to kiss Lisa. He stood for a few seconds, wondering if he dared, and then…the moment passed.

  "Let's get out of here," he said instead. "Let's go outside and find out what is going on."

  Chapter 61

  "You promise me you won't laugh?"

  "Will you stop with that already? I’ve promised it seven times. Why are you so insecure all of a sudden?" I asked and finished what had to be the best coffee I’d ever had. At least that was how it felt when drinking it.

  "I’ve done this before," Pete said, "and people have laughed in my face. Colleagues, wildlife officials, government officials. So many times I’ve tried to warn them, but no one believed me. They just laughed at me and discredited me. I was even removed from the faculty at UCF because of my theories. And now it is too late. As usual, their only answer is to close the area off and not let the public in. Why? Because it's too late. Because they don't want to do the very thing needed to solve this. Because they won't listen. They just keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. But one of these days, it will be too late. One of these days, we will no longer be able to correct our mistakes and it will be over for us."

  "Are we talking over as in hey, it's over, let's move to another city, or over as in hey, it's over, let's repopulate on Mars?" I asked fearfully.

  But Pete never answered my question. He continued. "It's worse than I thought. I think we need to hurry back to warn people. The thing is, I showed them my theories, I showed them the proof I have, what had happened up in Dakota, told them what I believed happened to the Lost City many years ago, but, no, they refused to listen. And now it's happening again."

  "Wait, what about Dakota?"

  "The pipeline," he said. "They dug that baby straight through holy land, and what happened?"

  "I don't know what happened," I asked. "I remember the protests; I remember people talking about it, telling us to show support for Standing Rock and all that, but we haven't heard anything for what, maybe a year?"

  "Because they're hiding it," he said. "It's completely covered up. The government is keeping it a secret."

  I felt a pinch of doubt in my heart. Was Pete just another conspiracy theorist? I hated those people who filled Facebook with what they believed the government was covering up constantly and how the Illuminati ruled the world, telling us to ignore the man behind the curtain.

  "But the protesters gave up, didn't they? Then they came down here to protest the pipeline down here, right?"

  "Yes, and that was the government's luck. This way, what happened after they left was never documented. The media coverage stopped because there were no more stories to tell from up there and the oil company thought they had won, but they forgot to consider one important factor, one force that we humans can never ever conquer no matter how hard we try."

  "You're kind of scaring me here, Pete. I’m freaked out enough as it is. What force are we talking about?"

  He looked at me and accelerated so he could pass a truck. I had never seen him drive like that. Come to think of it, I don't think I had ever seen anyone drive quite like that. I didn't even drive like that.

  "Please, look at the road," I said, but he didn't listen. He was agitated and wrapped up in what he was telling me.

  "Mother Nature," he said.

  "Mother Nature? Please look at the road, Pete."

  A car pulled out right in front of him. He pressed the horn down. The man gave him the finger, then pulled aside and let him pass. "I’m sorry," Pete yelled, "but this is a matter of life and death!"

  I swallowed hard while staring at him. I realized I was beginning to think he had completely lost it. I knew it was what he feared I would think, but I couldn't help it. He seemed to be balancing on the edge bordering insanity.

  "What do you mean, Mother Nature?" I asked.

  He gesticulated wildly with both hands. "I mean as in Mother Nature is pissed at all of us."

  I smiled uncomfortably, my heart throbbing in my chest. He was scaring me senseless. He didn't seem to notice and kept on rambling. He even sounded insane, his voice shrill.

  "I’ve seen it coming for quite some time now. I saw a change in the plants in our swamps. It all began about a year ago, when I was scouring a small area of the Green Swamps. I discovered a meat-eating plant that grows underground without direct sunlight. Without direct sunlight, Patty. Can you imagine? That's crazy! Other than a tiny yellow flower that juts an inch above the ground in spring, the plants grow completely underground. I had never seen anything like it. I don’t know of any other plant that photosynthesizes underground—certainly not flowering plants, and I thought it was strange, yet interesting. I didn't know it was just the beginning. So I started to investigate it. The plant’s leaves grow upward from the main stalk underground, while roots grow downward. The species of Utricularia, a relative of the snapdragon, is unlike any other known."

  "You're losing me here," I said. "Getting lost in your little plant world again. Maybe lose the technicalities that only you and your botanist friends understand?"

  "Sorry. But the thing is, I found a new and different species and it seemed to be growing bigger and faster than what was even possible. They didn't follow a normal growth pattern and there were species I had never seen in these parts before and never heard of in those sizes. I knew something was terribly wrong. And…and…get this. I am certain they are communicating in some way. I have no way of proving it, but I have detected some sort of language or communication, if you will, between them. They sigh and they moan in a pattern of some sort."

  "You mean they're ganging up on us?" I asked, trying hard to follow him. This was getting a little too far fetched for my taste.

  "Think about it," he said. "For so many years, humans have mistreated the earth and its plants. We’ve cut down trees and forests and polluted our rivers and lakes, while vital plants, some even with healing benefits, have gone extinct in the name of progress. What if the plants decided to take their planet back? And what if they decided to be every bit as merciless as we were? Even though we have done our very worst to remove it, nature is still everywhere."

  "So, what you're basically saying is: Mother Nature called and she wants her planet back?"

  "That's exactly what I am saying."

  Chapter 62

  It was going too slow. They all knew it. Sam and Greg were waiting on the outside, standing on the ground, looking up at the big red taco-shaped sealed trap while encouraging Harry to gnaw his way out, but for a very long time, he had been awfully quiet.

  "Harry?" Sam yelped. "Are you still there?"

  He felt his dad's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure he's all right, son. I’m sure he’s working hard from the inside."

  "Isn't there anything we can do to help him?" Sam asked fearfully.

  He loved Harry. Harry had been like a dad to him while he was growing up. He was the guy who taught him to burp the alphabet. He was the one who talked to him when Toby and Joseph picked on him after school. He taught him to stand up for himself. He also taught him that some people just aren't worth wasting your time on and sometimes it was okay to just walk away. He even taught him that some girls were worth fighting for. Even if they hardly knew you existed. Like Emmy. Emmy was the love of Sam's life. Had been for almost five years since she moved to town. Sam had told Harry about her and how he tried to talk to her, but couldn't even finish an entire sentence, and how he always became awkward around her. Harry had given him a few sentences to rehearse and it had helped the next day. After his talk with Harry, Sam had managed to finally invite her out for ice cream six months ago. Harry had helped him dress and prepare for it. It was a terrible date and she hadn't spoken to him since, but at least he had conquered his fears and actually invited her out. It was funny to Sam how easy it was for Harry to give Sam advice when all Harry had done for the past ten years was to look at Sam's mom and try to build up the courage to invite her out. Harry thought Sam didn't know, but he did. Everyone did. It was so obvious.

  "We've got to help him," Sam cried when there were still no sounds emerging from inside the plant. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand it. Harry was his friend. He was more of a father to Sam than Greg had ever been. He wasn't going to just stand here while Harry was dying in there.

  "But, how?" Greg asked. He pointed at the trap. "That thing is twenty feet tall. We can't even reach up there. The stem is slimy and spiked. We would get hurt if we tried to climb up there.

  Greg limped closer to the plant and looked up. "Harry? Harryyyy?" He looked back at Sam and shrugged, then looked up once again. "Harry? Are you still working on it? Are you still alive?"

  Sam stared anxiously at the trap, hoping and praying for any kind of movement, any sign that Harry was still alive. A knock, a grunt, a whimper, anything. But nothing came. The silence felt deathly.

  "Do something," Sam cried. "Do something, Dad."

  "I…I…think we’ve lost him," he said, as he walked to his son and grabbed him by the shoulders. "He might have run out of air in there and fainted. We have to think about ourselves now. There’s no way he’s getting out."

  "But…but…can't we cut the plant down?"

  "How? That stem is thicker than a tree. I don't have an ax, do you?"

  "No. But…"

  "Look at me, son," Greg said. "Look into my eyes."

  Sam did as he told him to. Greg spoke with a deep voice, to make sure Sam understood every word, he guessed.

  "Harry is gone. There is nothing we can do for him anymore. It's over. You did what you could."

  Sam whimpered and shook his head. He backed up, away from his dad. "No. No. I won't accept it. I won't."

  "Son…you have to…"

  Greg didn't get to finish his sentence before Sam turned around, picked up a long branch that had broken off from a tree next to them. Tears springing to his eyes in frustration, Sam lifted the branch, then slung it through the air, the broken end first. "Take this you stupid plant," he yelled. "I hate you. I hate you. HATE."

  Much to Sam's surprise (mostly because he had no idea he could throw that hard, but also because he usually always missed when throwing a ball), the branch whistled through the air and the pointy end of it pierced right through the trap and punctured it like a balloon. The trap sighed, then fell forward, releasing Harry's body and letting it roll to the ground.