The Crest

“The Druids worshiped oaks,” Fernando said.

“Oh?” Danielle inquired.

“They adored them.”

“But what did they see in oaks?”

“They were the domicile of the gods. They brought good luck and strength.”

“We could use some good luck now.”

“We got it. We won,” he said.

Danielle and Fernando walked along the Sandy River, beside them trotted Fernando’s dog Suerte. They came here to ease their minds after the last day of memorials and testimonials. Long, painful, it took two weeks to bury those 12,000 souls. They interred the dead in mass graves. There was a feeling in those fading days after the attack, that the nightmare might occur again; that somehow the hordes would suddenly emerge out of nowhere, out in the good old Oeste Americano. Their fears were well-founded.

Now, Danielle and Fernando walked to forget. Out in the clearing, they saw majestic oaks.

“Some can live a thousand years, you know.”

“I’ll bet they have stories.”

“Surely they do, and will, long after you and I are gone.”

Fernando picked up a stick and tossed it. Suerte went dashing after it. She returned with the stick, eager to go again.

“And maybe they’ll tell their stories directly to us humans.”

“Like they do now to some degree.”

“Correct, if only we could translate them?”

“Maybe the Druids understood them.”

“It’s a distinct possibility. They probably spoke to them. That’s why they loved them so much.”

“We’ve lost that ability in our brains, that is, to communicate on that level of consciousness. We require technology to do it for us now.”

“The pitfalls of science. Imagine that. Speaking directly to an oak and it responding back. I wonder if the oaks could communicate with the dead?”

The question caught Fernando off guard. “You mean dead people?”

“Yea, I know it sounds weird, but we just buried 12,000 bodies in the ground. It’s left me unnerved.”

“Well, people have been buried under trees for millennia, and 12,000 bodies is a lot of nitrogen, carbon, and phosphorus.”

“And do you think that somehow the consciousness of a dead person makes its way into the tree?”

Fernando knew Danielle was thinking of her late husband, Dennis. “Great philosophical question for the Druids I’m afraid.”

The heat was obtrusive. The pair took a break under the shade of one of the larger oaks.

“The Antisis almost pulled it off. God, it was scary.”

“We survived, like these ancients.” He patted the oak tree they leaned against.

“Security unraveled during the assault. We’re still vulnerable.”

“Faulty logic to send untrained men and women to fight the hordes. They didn’t deserve that. And too many spies residing in our very midst.”

They'd held memorial services for the dead. Families came from the furthest reaches of Old Portland City to say goodbye to their loved ones. There were a handful of defenders that survived; they felt guilt, remorse, they hid from the crowd. These few got lucky. Family members of the deceased heard of those survivors and thought, why these people? Why not my son or daughter.

Danielle and Fernando stared at the remnants of the Sandy River.

“The Druids had a ritual, where they cut mistletoe from the tree with a golden sickle. They believed that if mistletoe grew on an oak tree, then that tree was especially selected by God.”

“How nice to live according to the wisdom of a tree. Why can’t we do that?”

“I sometimes wonder that myself. It’s going to take time to heal FORC. Lots of years.”

“I know.”

Immediately after the attack, FORC closed. The institution in disarray, the nursery seedlings taciturn Danielle fell ill and went to the hospital, indeed the responsibility for managing FORC became too much. She stayed in seclusion, not talking, not meeting anyone until now.

“It’s good you came out,” he said.

“I just couldn’t do it before.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too. How are the seedlings?”

“They’ve stopped communicating, no sonic communications, nothing.”

“What are your readings?”

“The readings in the nursery are mostly normal. Hormones fine, nutrient levels fine, ethylene gas is low at 0.5 ppm. For photosynthesis we have normal carbon dioxide uptake. Everything is fine really, but they just don’t want to talk.”

“Why?” Danielle inquired.

“We failed them, Danielle. And as crazy as it sounds, I think they are in mourning.”

“Well, I’m not surprised, over 200,000 were destroyed.”

“We were lucky, it could have been more.”

“The seedlings think they’re going to become extinct.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t, it’s my sense.”

“And they’re trying to prevent it. How?”

“Well, scientifically speaking, their modus operandi is to evolve rapidly, more quickly than the last ice age. Let’s just take our Oregon white oaks for example.” He pointed. “Our Oregon oaks hybridized with oaks in California and as a result, they created a wide latitudinal range. That’s a strategy. Why? Because interbreeding expands your gene pool and expanding your range gives you options in an uncertain future.”

“And the future of our oaks with the Shift?”

“The past is the key to the future. To answer that question, we must go back to North America during the Eocene epoch, 56 million years ago, the earth was hotter and wetter than it is today.”

“And what happened back then?”

“Well, that’s when oaks really came into their own. Genome sequencing really showed us how oaks dispersed. But then global temperatures plummeted about 52 million years ago and oaks migrated southward, some populations in North America became extinct.”

“So, they survived in hotter Mexico?”

“Yes, but the cold climate opened an opportunity in North America. The tropical forests died out so some oaks rapidly filled spaces the tropical species left behind.”

“So, I’m still not following.”

“My point is that they can live in diverse climates. Oaks are mostly drought-adapted but they also evolved to survive in wet areas, but the key here is they adapted well to extreme drought.”

“Our oaks in the nursery are doing well.”

“True, they are a roadmap to the future.”

“What about fire?”

“Well, we know that oaks can survive drought and fire, particularly with their deep taproots. Large oak trees have thick bark and are resistant to fire. But the key component here are mycorrhizal fungi that help the oaks acquire nutrients, and this helps them during the Shift for sure.”

“And the future?”

“They are our best species for the Shift. Oak species exchange genes readily, depending on the landscape and climate, and this allows them to survive better.”

“Even our Oregon white oaks?”

“Yes, after the last ice age, the glaciers receded in North America and oaks hybridized rapidly, meaning that in our hotter environment, they exchanged genes readily, that aided their survival. History tells us that Oregon white oaks are adapted to places too dry to support any other tree species, especially on southern slopes.”

“So, our oak seedlings will survive the Shift?”

Fernando paused to think, unsure. “They are the best we have in the nursery.”

Danielle changed the topic to Fernando’s wife. “How is Paula?”

“She was traumatized by the attack, but she is recovering. She’s stayed with me all these years you know. Through all the frankentree shit.”

“I know, take some time off to be with her.”

“I will.”

“You kept the nursery going, Fernando. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Danielle began to cry.

“Nor without you.” Fernando held her hand. “You know, we did it. We’re at 4.1 million seedlings strong.”

Danielle smiled. “That’s 4.1 million seedlings more than when we started. The toughest trees in the whole goddamn world.”

“I’ll agree with that.”