Drift by Jon McGoran Read Free Book Online

planes. It’s generally not a problem, I just avoid places with lots of chemicals. For me it’s mostly just pesticides and herbicides.” She smiled. “That and cheap carpet. Anyway, when I started looking into it, I was shocked at some of the chemicals that are getting into the food stream. That’s what got me into organics. And it’s not just the chemicals.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, all of it. The GMOs, the clones, irradiation.” She got up and went to the kitchen. “It’s like food isn’t food anymore.”
    “Again with the clones?” I repeated. “Really?”
    “It’s for real, Doyle. They’re doing that all over,” Moose cut in. “They’re cloning cows and sheep. They’re genetically modifying crops to produce pharmaceuticals, like vaccines and proteins, and heavy duty stuff like interferon. And the genetically modified stuff is everywhere: corn and soybeans and tomatoes. I swear, they let it out intentionally, mix it in with the regular stuff just so they can say ‘Oops, too late now, but see? It didn’t kill you.’ Or at least not yet.”
    “Come on, don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”
    Nola returned with two fresh beers and gave me one. “Actually, he’s right. It does get mixed in, and then they sue the farmers for using the stuff without a license.”
    “So how does it get mixed in?”
    She shrugged. “Pollen drift, carelessness, hybrids … mix-ups with seed.”
    The conversation went on like that for a while. Maybe I had eaten my fill, but the more they talked about food, the less hungry I became.
    When Nola announced she was done eating, I did, too.
    Moose had eaten like a four-year-old girl, but he pushed himself away from the table and said he was full, rubbing his concave midsection like it was a bowl full of jelly.
    We cleared the table, and Nola was making coffee when her phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, clearing her throat before answering the phone. When she spoke, her voice sounded bright and professional. “Hello, Nola Watkins speaking.” She had turned partially away from me, but not enough that I couldn’t see her expression change as her voice did.
    “Nola Watkins speaking,” she repeated, tentatively. “Hello?… Hello?”
    I looked over at Moose, and he looked back at me, shaking his head.
    Nola made a soft growling noise in her throat and put her phone away.
    “Sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile. She was trying to act like nothing was wrong, but her face was flushed and her eyes were strained.
    “What was that about?” I asked. “Everything okay?”
    She shot a look at Moose and said, “Yes, just a wrong number.”
    I shot a look at Moose, too.
    “She’s been getting all these hang-up calls,” he said with a slightly drunken snort.
    “Moose! Stop it.” She turned to me. “It’s nothing.”
    “Doesn’t sound like nothing. How long has that been going on?”
    “Since she turned down the offer from the developers, about six months ago.”
    “Moose, seriously,” she said with a glare. “Shut up.”
    “Developers?” I asked.
    “Oh, yeah,” he said. “They’re buying everything up out here.”
    I laughed before I could stop myself.
    Nola gave me a sharp look. “What?”
    “Well, nothing. It’s just that … well, Moose was going on about that earlier, and I’ve seen a little bit of that, but mostly it’s all farmland.” I laughed again, this time drawing looks from both of them.
    “Just because it isn’t being developed now doesn’t mean it won’t be soon,” she snapped. “Pennsylvania is losing open space at a rate of three hundred acres a day. And it happens fast. One day a port-a-potty shows up, two weeks later there’s a sign saying ‘Coming soon, the Estates at Mountain View Village.’ Six weeks after that, there’s fifty McMansions where there used to be a meadow.”
    “If you say so, I believe you,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “But I wouldn’t have thought there was all