Prose Header


The Tree Museum

by Marjorie Salzwedel

Part 1 appears
in this issue.
conclusion

The trail took them past the beech trees with their frail gray bark, then the chestnut trees, the box elders, and the cottonwoods. The family sat down on a bench and turned on the X-pod on a stand nearby. They listened to the baritone voice of Dr. Lloyd Patton, the world-famous botanist,

“Trees need each other and collectively are better able to conserve ground water. Together, the trees can often ward off disease. Alone in a harsh environment, trees are always vulnerable.”

Janie swung her legs back and forth as she sat safely between her parents on the bench.

The canaries darted from one bough to another.

“There are so many canaries,” Sarah whispered.

“A half dozen at least,” Roger agreed as he looked up at them. The family got up and walked on past the walnuts and the butternuts, the birches, the pines and the sycamores.

“The trees smell nice, mommy,” Janie said as she put her nose close to the bark of the cedar. “I’m hungry. I have a headache.”

They found a bench and stopped for lunch. Sarah opened up the food pack, took out the napkins, and passed around the egg-salad sandwiches along with small boxes of orange juice. The birds cheeped overhead, perched on the sign that said, “No feeding the birds.”

After putting their sandwich wrappings into a tube that took the trash underground, they stepped onto the trail again.

“There’s the exit ahead. Shall we go over to the Southern Pavilion next door and walk under those tall palms?” Roger asked his wife and daughter.

“Yes,” they both replied.

“Oh, look,” Janie said as she looked back at the canaries. “Look, two men in spacesuits are coming toward us. There’re not keeping on the paths. They’re not following the rules. They’re running. Nobody is supposed to run in the tree museum.”

“No, they’re not supposed to run,” Roger said as he turned and watched them approaching. “They look like astronauts.”

“Yo,” the man who stepped ahead of the other shouted in their direction.

“Are they trying to get our attention?” Sarah questioned.

“Looks that way,” Roger said.

“Stop,” the younger one in front said as the men stepped onto the pathway. They had little tubes of oxygen from their backpack running into their nostrils.

“You’ll need some oxygen if you go out,” said the tall thin man who had lagged behind. “Are the oxygen kits in your car in working order?”

“Yes, I know the law requires it.” Roger said as he instinctively reached to turn on his news pod on his wrist. News flashed onto the tiny screen.

“One family is still in the Mid-West conservatory.”

As the Hendersons stared at the broadcast news with a televised picture of themselves, the transmission went dead. Roger looked around for cameras. The two men in the spacesuits opened packs they carried and handed over small backpacks of oxygen for each of the visitors to strap over their chests.

“You need to put these breathing tubes in your nose and start the air immediately. The oxygen will last you twenty-four hours.”

“Can you tell us what’s happening?”

“Our web lines are not functioning.”

“I saw a picture of us standing here on my podcast.”

“Don’t know about that.” The two men hurried the Hendersons toward the exit.

Janie held on to her mother’s hand as Sarah fitted the oxygen tube to her daughter’s nose. “Breathe in the oxygen. It will help your headache, too. Remember the drills in kindergarten.”

The lights in the solarium went out. Not even sunlight streaked through the transparent roof. The sky appeared to have turned dark gray.

“What happened to their back-up generator?” Roger asked.

“We don’t know. The exit door will open automatically when we’re within six feet,” the older man declared.

Roger stared over at the little green light he knew was on the door. They were almost within six feet.

As if he had a sudden change of mind, the young man in the lead stopped and held out his arms to block them. “None of us should go further.”

The older fellow whispered, “This wasn’t covered in the manual.”

“The system must be on override, Jack. It’s code red now.” He glanced at his iPod flashing amber light onto his hand.

Both of the men yanked down an enormous blanket-like shield from the wall to the left of the door and threw it over the visitors. It covered them instantly like a giant comforter as it knocked the Hendersons to the ground. They passed out.

* * *

Hours later, it was night-time dark when Roger opened his eyes and reached to find Sarah by his side and Janie nestled in her arms. All three of them breathed through the carefully placed tubes. The small oxygen packs were strapped to their chests.

When Roger touched Sarah lightly, she and Janie awoke. The three of them instinctively pushed away the blanket that was over them, stood up and inched their way toward the tiny green light. The exit door opened after they took a few steps.

Outside it was night. The sky was filled with stars and a half moon.

A canary cheeped beside them. “It must have followed us out. Well, it won’t find anything to eat in the great outdoors,” Roger whispered as he clicked at his news pod that didn’t respond, and called out, “Anybody out there?” They listened for human noises and heard none. Only the breeze moaned as it passed over them. “We could probably find our way back to the car walking along the edge of the gardens.”

They stayed on the tram path. Roger and Sarah both held onto Janie’s hands, shielding her between them as they shuffled along.

“Is that the smell of lilac?” Sarah gasped. We must be by the Japanese gardens.” They walked on until Sarah exclaimed, “I smell caramel,” and the three stopped.

“Honey-glazed apples,” Janie whispered. .

“That’s right. It’s that apple cart by the entrance. ”

Roger was eager now, “The garage is right across. We have to walk to Row H, the eighth post.”

Sarah counted the posts out loud as he touched each one with his free hand. The trio never let go of one another.

“It’s got to be the letter H,” Roger said. They stepped forward cautiously as he pointed his remote. It responded instantly with a brief pleasant chime. They walked a little faster to the sound as the automatic opener put the headlights on.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he said as he opened the car door.

Sarah slipped in, edged her slim form into the front seat and slid under the steering wheel across to the passenger’s side. Roger handed Janie across to Sarah’s lap and said, “Let’s get out of here,” He started the motor and drove slowly out of the garage, not wanting to run over anything. Once out past the entrance, they sped away under the half-moon light.

They headed west and when they got to the freeway entrance, they could see the dim outlines of the millions of houses clustered on the hills. They drove the speed limit toward the Simi Hills always conscious of the ever-present GPS cameras in the satellite above them. The dawn was brightening the sky.

* * *

A little more than an hour later the family pulled into their driveway of their modular home. Ivory-colored like all the others it was earthquake proof built on a large steel plate with a hidden brace.

Their well-groomed neighborhood looked abandoned with no cars on the street. Sarah picked up the garage remote from its slot on the dashboard and pointed it forward. Their garage door didn’t open. She took the emergency key from the glove box and handed it to Roger who got out, turned the key in the lock, lifted up the garage door by hand. With solar power blocked from the house, Roger flipped the switch for the battery-powered generator system. When they all went inside, none of the large-screened news pods worked in any of their rooms. But the house had generator light. No one could remember where the emergency radio was.

Sarah went to the pantry and got a jar of their favorite raspberry jam from Toronto. Hungrily the three spread the jam on wheat rounds. They drank orange juice, still cold from the refrigerator.

Janie ran to the front window and shouted, “The dirigibles are in the sky.” As the blimp busses descended slowly at the corner, the Hendersons stared in disbelief and went out to watch.

After the flying rescue ships were tied down, the neighbors disembarked and approached. Roger asked them what happened. Jim Matthews and his wife, Jill, were hooked up to their portable oxygen kits too.

Jim was an English professor, and he liked to talk. “The civil defense marshals said the oxygen levels are safe now. Even so, we thought we’d keep our oxygen going for another hour or so. I see you still have your oxygen on. I can’t believe that none of those porcupine bombs from Chaisia got through. The governor should have taken them seriously when Chasia threatened yesterday that they were going to attack. L.A. is always thought of as a target. Our global navigator shields were ready, though, with the antidotal antimissiles. Hard to believe they neutralized all of them before they entered our airspace. Almost everyone we know except you was out of harm’s way in the dirigibles. Where were you?”

“We were in the arboretum the entire time,” Roger answered happily. “Coming back we didn’t see any people anywhere. I worried that maybe we were thrown into a new Garden of Eden. It would have been heartbreaking. We would have missed all you good folks.”

“Hey, we were safe in the dirigibles, the Noah’s Arks. A lot of people took their dogs and cats.”

“I knew the day would come that they’d need those flying boats,” Roger said. He thought, What a wonder that the antimissiles worked. It’s a miracle, thank God. Roger was quiet as he walked toward the green door with his wife and daughter. He was grateful that everybody was safe.

“I like the Tree Museum,” Janie whispered to her parents, smiling at both of them.

Roger returned his daughter’s smile and smoothed her hair. Reaching for his wife, he drew her to him and hugged her. For now, all was well in California.


Copyright © 2007 by Marjorie Salzwedel

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