Evil Harvest (26 page)

Read Evil Harvest Online

Authors: Anthony Izzo

A cord of firewood rested against the back of the cabin, and there was a picnic table and a rainbow-colored lawn chair in the backyard. The yard sloped away from the cabin, a dirt trail leading down into the pines and the forest beyond.
They were on a hill, and that was a plus, because it was a good defensive position. The only ways to get at the cabin were the main road and that dirt trail. Matt hoped the creatures couldn’t attack from the trail. The possibility of a front
and
rear attack presented even greater problems.
Still, it made him nervous because he had seen Them in action, the way they tore out of the woods that day at the park. If they came at the cabin in any type of numbers, he and Jill wouldn’t last long.
He had a bad feeling in his gut, a gnawing, that the Chief of Police might have survived the bullets. Who knew how much damage one of them could take and still keep going? Despite his concern, he snickered to himself, visualizing Rafferty as an evil Energizer Bunny with pink ears.
Regardless of whether Rafferty was dead or alive, the Lincoln Police would be looking for the suspects, combing the area. Hopefully no one saw them leave the scene, and if Rafferty really was dead, he couldn’t describe his killers.
Even though they were nearly forty miles from Lincoln, it didn’t seem far enough.
He took another glance into the woods, where columns of sunlight broke through the trees. Not much light and plenty of darkness to conceal an attacker.
He hoped Harry was bringing them some heavy-duty weaponry.
Matt walked back around and went in the front door. Jill came out of the bathroom. A small Band-Aid covered the cut on her chin. She had also plastered gauze over the wound on her arm.
“You look like you just fought a war.”
“You don’t look so hot yourself.” Jill said.
“I know. Seriously, how are you?”
“It stings, but I’ll live. How about you? Rafferty clipped you good a couple of times.”
“Oh yeah.”
He was so high on adrenaline that he hadn’t felt much pain, but now that Jill mentioned it, he had a dull throb in his stomach where Rafferty kicked him. His left cheekbone also felt tender, and upon touching it, he knew he was going to have one hell of a shiner from getting clocked with the revolver. He already had a purple bruise under the other eye from the assault with the nightstick.
“Damn. I was just starting to feel better from the damage you did to me in the warehouse.”
She offered him a thin smile. “What are we going to do? We’re fugitives. And God knows how many of those things are looking for us right now.”
“I figure we stay here at least until morning. See what Harry brings us, then decide from there.”
She moved in close to him and looked him in the eyes. “Whatever happens, I’m glad I found you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to press her belly against him. He could feel her heat, smell her scent. He hugged back, banishing sexual thoughts from his mind for now, trying to focus on what lay ahead of them.
“Ditto for me,” he said.
He would not lose her to Rafferty like he did his family.
 
 
Metal banging in the yard. Garbage cans being turned over?
Sally Perski set her Harry Potter book on the bed, got up and peered out the window. Nothing out there, save the darkness.
It was probably a neighborhood cat rummaging for scraps.
“Sally, turn that fan down,” her mother called.
“But it’s hotter than hell!”
“Watch your mouth, young lady. Turn it down.”
The window fan, old and yellowed, thrummed and rattled on the highest setting. Sally clicked the knob to Low and lay back on the bed with her book. She and her mom were alone tonight; Brendan was spending the night with her Aunt Katherine in Buffalo.
She would spoil him rotten for the evening, giving him one chocolate chip cookie after another and renting all the Barney videos that Blockbuster had to offer. She wished someone would spoil her like that.
Something thumped on the outside wall of the bedroom.
Again she put the book down and rolled off of the bed. She couldn’t look out that window because the fan was in the way. Something hit the wall again.
“What the hell?”
She had just begun to curse this past year, liking the sounds of the words but not brave enough to use anything other than “hell” or “damn” around her mother.
Drawing the miniblinds aside, she looked out the window that overlooked the yard.
Something like black velvet streaked toward the house.
“Mom!”
Glass shattered and the wood in the window frame gave with a hollow crack. The fan banged against the ground.
A creature from a nightmare stuck its head in the ruined side window. Sally moved away from the rear window, just in time, as a clawed hand burst through the glass.
The creatures Matt Crowe described had come for her.
The one at the side window crammed its lanky frame into the bedroom, ducking its head to avoid hitting the ceiling. Its amber eyes focused on her and it grinned, showing nasty teeth.
They smelled so bad she thought the SpaghettiOs she had for dinner would come back up.
She managed to take a step toward the door before it wrapped its arm around her waist and yanked her off her feet.
All she could think was that she was glad Brendan wasn’t here.
 
 
Across town, Lila Reese held a stinking bag of garbage at arm’s length. At their home in the Hamptons, they had a cleaning woman to handle menial chores like this, but not here. She would have to suffer through it.
She opened the garbage can lid and dropped the bag in. After replacing the lid, she rubbed her hands together, as if to get the filth off of them.
Arthur Reese was out of town, negotiating the sale of one of his hotel chains to some Texas millionaire. She could care less who or what as long as the money kept rolling in. Arthur was on the verge of becoming a billionaire, and damned if she wouldn’t try and spend every last cent of his money.
On top of it all, Carla still hadn’t come home. Her calls to the Lincoln police had gotten her nowhere. The officers told Lila she should give it some time.
Give it some time!
She had called Arthur, who put in a call to a private investigator.
She told Carla a thousand times a day to be careful, that she was a pretty girl, and there were a lot of creeps out there who would love to get their hands on her. In her heart, she always knew something like this would happen. Carla was just too pretty, and the world was full of weirdos.
She walked back to the side door and opened it.
Something smelled rotten in the hallway. Then she caught sight of it and felt a knot of fear in her stomach.
There was something big and black and hulking waiting for her. It growled like an animal. Twin yellow globes glared at her from the darkened hallway.
It moved forward and leapt down the stairs. It grabbed her arm and pulled. There was no initial pain, only a sharp tug and a popping noise, and she thought it dislocated.
When she looked at her shoulder, the spurt of blood and torn fabric told her different.
The last thing she saw was the thing coming closer, her severed arm in its claws.
C
HAPTER
24
Nothing like a good stroke to kill the time.
Carl pulled his coveralls up and zipped the front closed. Even when he worked at night he still wore them—even if there were no cars, it made him feel more mechanic-like. He stuffed the August issue of
Playboy
magazine in his rear pocket and sauntered back into the office.
He sat in the squeaky chair and propped his feet on the desk, something Jimbo couldn’t stand him doing, but Jimbo was nowhere to be found. Carl and the other mechanic, Don Gerritt, had kept the place open without Jimbo.
Carl felt like a liberated slave. He could put his feet on the desk or sneak off to the john whenever he wanted. He had even managed to skim a hundred and forty dollars from the register in Jimbo’s absence.
Hell, no one had come looking for that salesman he had killed. The body had been consumed, and his Lexus was at the bottom of Lake Erie. By the time they found the car, the Harvest would come, and they would be on the move, looking for other towns to occupy.
“Fuck you, Jimbo. Carl’s running the show now.”
A crash came from the garage. It sounded like one of the toolboxes had been tipped over and everything had spilled out onto the concrete.
Carl shot up from the chair and grabbed the metal Swingline stapler off the desk, it being the only weapon available.
Facing the door, he tried scaring them off.
“Whoever’s in there, I got a loaded Magnum!”
He stepped back toward the glass door leading to the pumps.
The door to the garage bay squeaked open like a coffin lid in a Dracula movie.
“I mean it! I’ll fucking blow your head off!”
Something flew through the door and rapped him right on the kneecap. Pain flared, and he instinctively hopped on one foot. He looked down and saw the impact wrench lying on the floor.
A chrome revolver appeared in the doorway, its owner guarded by the shadows in the garage.
“Turn the lights off and put up the Closed sign, now.”
Carl didn’t want to argue with a loaded gun, so he flipped the lights off and turned the sign around.
“Now sit down.”
He hopped on his good foot to the chair and sat down, his knee a mess of throbs and aches.
Ed Rafferty stepped from the shadows, stark naked, his skin white as an eggshell.
Rafferty naked? If he was naked, that meant he must’ve been on a hunt.
“What do you want, Chief?”
Even as he asked the question, Carl knew it was a foolish one, because in his heart he knew Ed Rafferty hadn’t come here to wish him happy birthday. He meant to hurt Carl.
“Seen Jimbo around?” Rafferty said.
“Not for days. I been runnin’ the station myself.”
“Good for you. Have any more salesmen drop in?”
Oh, shit.
“Salesmen?”
“Don’t play dumb, Carl. Jimbo told me about the salesman you offed. I hope it was a good one.”
“I didn’t mean to, Chief. But he was causing trouble. You’re not gonna kill me, are you?”
Rafferty reached over and clapped him on the arm. “Relax, Carl, I’m not going to kill you. Hey, you got a smoke?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
He’d never seen Rafferty smoke before. Maybe he only did it once in a while.
He pawed at his shirt before feeling the battered pack of Winstons tucked in the breast pocket. After removing the pack, he plucked a cigarette out with his thumb and index finger and gave it to Rafferty. Then he picked up his Bic from the desk and lit it for the chief.
Rafferty inhaled, the butt glowing in the dark office like an ember. He blew smoke over his head, and it circled him in a gauzy haze.
“That was a big mistake, Carl. Killing like that. You know the rules.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“I’ll forget about it this time because you’re young and stupid.”
Carl didn’t respond, instead transfixed by Rafferty’s total lack of shame or embarrassment at standing nude in a gas station.
“Before I go, I’d like a favor.”
Carl swallowed hard. Was Rafferty going to ask him for something weird, like a blow job? He’d rather take a bullet in the guts than do that.
“What?”
“One of those little gas cans to keep in my patrol car. In case I ever run out of gas.”
“Oh yeah. Sure!”
Carl pursed his lips and blew out a breath of relief. He pushed himself up with his good leg and limped past Rafferty into the service bays. He remembered leaving a half full gallon can near the compressor.
He returned to the office and handed it to Rafferty.
“Even got some gas in it for you.”
He hoped that would satisfy the chief. Carl wanted him out of here.
“I’m not going to kill you, Carl. But you will have an accident. A horrible one.”
Rafferty set his weapon on the floor and unscrewed the cap and spout from the gas can. In one quick motion, like a quarterback flipping a shovel pass, he doused Carl’s face in gasoline.
It felt like liquid fire in his eyes and he screamed, rubbing his eyes and only succeeding in irritating them more.
Rafferty has a lit cigarette.
A hot pinprick kissed his cheek and then there was nothing but searing orange light.
He fell to the ground screaming, beating at the flames.
 
 
Rafferty left Carl’s flaming body and hurried out the front door.
He looked back, seeing the flames spread across a throw rug and to the magazine rack, whose contents would provide more fuel for the fire. If he were lucky, maybe the flames would get to the gas tanks buried under the pumps, and the place would go up like the Fourth of July.
Jimbo’s place was gone. The old coot dead. That served him right for ever messing with Rafferty.
He accelerated around the back of the station, the night air rushing over his body, making him tingle. He hopped a fence and cut diagonally through a yard with a small pool and swing set, jumped another fence, and bolted down a driveway.
He was being especially ballsy, running naked through yards back to his patrol car, but tonight he felt invincible.
He had survived bullet wounds that would’ve buried a man, and now he felt unstoppable. So what if someone saw him running through yards? As far as he was concerned, no one could touch him. All that worrying about being found out by Outsiders and sneaking around was useless. His kind was the superior race, and they didn’t need to worry about humans anymore.
After taking the Perski girl, her mother and the Reese bitch, he had changed back into human form and elected to leave his clothes off when he took care of Carl. He wanted to see the look on the little punk’s face when he showed up naked. It was priceless.
Now, he knifed across a front lawn, feeling the same exhilaration a big cat must feel when on a hunt.
His patrol car was in sight, and he leapt over the hood, landing squarely. He got into the car and closed his eyes, relishing the night’s work.
A murder witness was out of the way, the murder victim’s mother was taken care of, and he had removed Carl, something he’d been wanting to do for a long time. His officers and other volunteers were taking care of the humans in the park who had stopped to stare at Carla Reese’s body. They would disappear, and their homes would be burned to the ground.
If anyone wanted to know what happened, they could come and see him. He didn’t care. The Harvest was soon, and the Outsiders who lived in town would be slaughtered, so let them come and see him.
He felt like he was in control again. The only thing left was for Clarence to find that cabin where Jill and Matt were staying. Then his remaining problems would end.
Donna had waited for Jill’s return call. Her phone rang at six in the morning, the day after Jill had said they’d killed Rafferty. Jill had given Donna directions to the cabin and now she cruised down the expressway, both sides lined with trees. Hopefully the cabin wasn’t much farther. She hated driving in the boonies.
She was a city girl, born and bred, and being out in the country like this was the equivalent of landing on Jupiter. Marshall was about as far from the city as she wanted to get, being twenty miles away from Buffalo. It was a small village, with a population just over ten thousand, most of them wealthy.
Now she was on her way into the heart of the country, suspended from work and dealing with movie monsters living in a town not thirty miles from her home. She felt she had to join the fight against them (if there was going to be one) and take action to avenge Rhonda’s death.
Her Colt Anaconda rested on the seat next to her, the backup weapon to her automatic, lost in the fire. It was a .44 Magnum, and after seeing that thing chasing her through the house, she had her doubts about even a .44 being able to do much damage to one of them.
She got off the 400 at Route 16 and nearly passed the dirt road; she had to screech the brakes and crank the wheel to make the turn.
She parked behind a red Chevy pickup, holstered the Colt and approached the front door. The grass had a filmy frost on it, and the cabin was draped in shadows. She was surprised to find herself shivering on the last day of August.
She knocked on the door and took a step back.
A boyishly handsome guy opened the door, pointing a piece at her. He also had a large hunting knife in a sheath on his belt.
“That an automatic in your hand or you just glad to see me?” she said. “I’m Donna Ricci.”
He laughed and the ice was broken. He lowered the weapon and invited her inside.
“Sorry for the greeting, but we can’t be too careful.”
“No problem.”
Jill sat on the bed, pulling on socks.
“Donna, this is Matt Crowe,” she said.
She shook his hand.
Matt said, “Jill tells me you saw one of them.”
“I did more than saw it. The son of a bitch chased me.”
“What did it look like?”
“Tall. Yellowish eyes. Claws. Smelled like someone took a dump in a bucket of spoiled eggs.”
“That’s about right. You’re lucky you got away.”
“You’re familiar with Them?”
“All too.”
Jill stood up off the bed and slipped into sneakers. “They killed Matt’s family.”
“Rafferty was with them,” Matt said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. They got my sister-in-law too. That’s why I was in her house.”
“Who was it?”
“Some low-life junkie named Charles Dietrich. He must’ve been waiting for Rhonda when she got home,” Donna said.
Donna took off the light cotton jacket she was wearing, set it on the card table and then sat down. “I questioned Rafferty on what happened, but he gave me the runaround. So I tried checking things out for myself and wound up burning down my brother’s house.”
Jill joined her at the table.
“What does your brother think about all this?” Matt asked.
“I actually think he’s glad to be rid of her. He told me that this was a new beginning for him.”
Donna still felt a surge of acid in her stomach at the thought of the fight she had with Bob. “But that’s Bob for you. Diddling his assistant on the side.”
“That’s awful,” Jill said.
Donna pointed to Matt’s weapon. “So what kind of firepower you have? Those things are pretty damn strong.”
Matt held up the gun. It was an automatic, maybe a Beretta. “This is it, so far. But Harry’s supposed to be bringing us more.”
“Can he get his hands on any artillery? How about an M-1 tank?”
“Maybe some nukes,” Jill chimed in.

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