Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 by Cynthia Kraack
Authors: Cynthia Kraack
Tags: United States, Fiction, Suspense, Fantasy, Thrillers, Genetic engineering, Terrorism, Dystopia, Children, Minnesota, Great Depression, economic collapse, Birthmothers, Birthparents
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make decisions after more is known about David’s situation.” Giving my hand an unexpected squeeze before pulling his away, he continued. “Let’s assume he’ll be back here in good time and we don’t have to discuss this further.”
Peterson cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to rush us along.” He frowned. “DOE has placed this building in lockdown status until David returns. Staff will continue to work here, the lab will remain open. Analyst Jega’s provided us with a list of non-DOE individuals who regularly move in and out of your office, and we will set up limited access for them. Tomorrow, we’ll install a partial barrier to the area beyond your office and coffee counter to secure David’s work.”
A wall, even temporary, in the space where David and I spent much of our working day suggested a permanence I wasn’t willing to accept. I took a breath. “What that says to Ashwood’s people feels rather alarming.”
Milan slipped into his strange undefined role between the DOE and the Bureau of Human Capital Management to block Peterson’s plan. We moved to talking about anticipated media coverage, how I would receive private updates, what the media would cover, and circulating a written statement to our staff.
I looked at my office clock and noticed it was six-fifteen. When I raised my eyes to the window, the estate’s normal morning activities continued with the drive needed to grow food, raise livestock, feed people. In the near distance Lao walked with a day laborer, a kindly man from Lakeville who worked at Ashwood to provide a high-quality education for his daughter in our school. A man who frequently stopped to talk with David about sports.
“What do I tell our children?” The question cut through Peterson’s placing a DOE security folder in front of me. “And his mother? Sarah lost a brother in Afghanistan twenty years ago. What do I tell Sarah?”
“If you’d like us to stay an hour or so, I’m willing to talk with whomever you choose as a representative of the DOE. We want Ashwood’s people to understand there is no reason to be worried about their own security or continued operation of the estate.” How could he understand that David’s role at Ashwood had nothing to do with the daily business operations, that my husband gave all his work effort to the DOE? The people of Ashwood would miss the essence of my husband, the man who knew their names and their kids’ plans, the farm kid who could clear brush when needed. Together David and I built an atmosphere at Ashwood estate, and that’s what people would miss.
Their transport left the estate through the DOE small drive before the residence workers brushed their teeth. Except for Jega at the entrance, I stood alone in the office building. David’s locked door, always an affront when he traveled, now felt threatening. Today I would be with my family to tell them the news of David’s disappearance and Andrew’s arrival. Tomorrow I’d focus on bringing my husband back.
Chapter Eleven
Knock, knock.” Paul pushed my office door open. “Need a friend?” One wide eyebrow, turned white by age and living under bright sun, raised into a questioning line above eyes like those of his son. Under gentle words the hint of a tremor implied that he’d seen the government’s silver transport depart.
“Please.” I stood by the windows as if solutions for today’s problems were hidden in leaves and fields just beyond its glass. As if David might jog up the drive covered with sweat and a layer of road dust and stop in my office on his way to clean up for breakfast. “You saw the transport?”
“They were here about David?”
His hands settled on the back of a chair, fingers spread, age spots and raised veins snagging my attention. With so few urban baby boomers surviving the big D , Sarah and Paul were among the oldest people in our new economy. Decades of living each day outdoors hid their age until moments like this
Peterson cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to rush us along.” He frowned. “DOE has placed this building in lockdown status until David returns. Staff will continue to work here, the lab will remain open. Analyst Jega’s provided us with a list of non-DOE individuals who regularly move in and out of your office, and we will set up limited access for them. Tomorrow, we’ll install a partial barrier to the area beyond your office and coffee counter to secure David’s work.”
A wall, even temporary, in the space where David and I spent much of our working day suggested a permanence I wasn’t willing to accept. I took a breath. “What that says to Ashwood’s people feels rather alarming.”
Milan slipped into his strange undefined role between the DOE and the Bureau of Human Capital Management to block Peterson’s plan. We moved to talking about anticipated media coverage, how I would receive private updates, what the media would cover, and circulating a written statement to our staff.
I looked at my office clock and noticed it was six-fifteen. When I raised my eyes to the window, the estate’s normal morning activities continued with the drive needed to grow food, raise livestock, feed people. In the near distance Lao walked with a day laborer, a kindly man from Lakeville who worked at Ashwood to provide a high-quality education for his daughter in our school. A man who frequently stopped to talk with David about sports.
“What do I tell our children?” The question cut through Peterson’s placing a DOE security folder in front of me. “And his mother? Sarah lost a brother in Afghanistan twenty years ago. What do I tell Sarah?”
“If you’d like us to stay an hour or so, I’m willing to talk with whomever you choose as a representative of the DOE. We want Ashwood’s people to understand there is no reason to be worried about their own security or continued operation of the estate.” How could he understand that David’s role at Ashwood had nothing to do with the daily business operations, that my husband gave all his work effort to the DOE? The people of Ashwood would miss the essence of my husband, the man who knew their names and their kids’ plans, the farm kid who could clear brush when needed. Together David and I built an atmosphere at Ashwood estate, and that’s what people would miss.
Their transport left the estate through the DOE small drive before the residence workers brushed their teeth. Except for Jega at the entrance, I stood alone in the office building. David’s locked door, always an affront when he traveled, now felt threatening. Today I would be with my family to tell them the news of David’s disappearance and Andrew’s arrival. Tomorrow I’d focus on bringing my husband back.
Chapter Eleven
Knock, knock.” Paul pushed my office door open. “Need a friend?” One wide eyebrow, turned white by age and living under bright sun, raised into a questioning line above eyes like those of his son. Under gentle words the hint of a tremor implied that he’d seen the government’s silver transport depart.
“Please.” I stood by the windows as if solutions for today’s problems were hidden in leaves and fields just beyond its glass. As if David might jog up the drive covered with sweat and a layer of road dust and stop in my office on his way to clean up for breakfast. “You saw the transport?”
“They were here about David?”
His hands settled on the back of a chair, fingers spread, age spots and raised veins snagging my attention. With so few urban baby boomers surviving the big D , Sarah and Paul were among the oldest people in our new economy. Decades of living each day outdoors hid their age until moments like this
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