The Harvesting (7 page)

“
That’s the last thing to
worry about.”

“
But you smell so clean,
so nice,” he whispered.

“
Well, I figured I should
take a hot shower while I still had a chance.”

He smiled and then there was awkward
silence. Every fiber in my being wanted to pull him into an
embrace, to hug him, to smell him, to feel his chest pressed
against my body, but I reminded myself his wife had died only hours
before.

“
Why are you here?” I
asked.

He shook his head. “Layla . . . I . .
. When it all started to go down, I tried to keep my family safe,
but I kept thinking, ‘Where is Layla? Is Layla alright?’ I was
praying to God you were not still in D. C. Did you see? They rained
missiles down on that place. Blew it up. It was one of the last
things I saw on cable. I thought I saw your car the other day so I
hoped. When Jamie opened the door today, and I saw you standing
there, like some kind of Amazon angel, I couldn’t believe it. At
that moment Kristie was dying, but you were alive. I felt happy. I
am so ashamed. I felt so happy.”

“
I seriously hope you
didn’t come here just to confess,” I said. Part of me was elated,
but the other half of me was disgusted.

“
No. I just wanted to see
you. I wanted to tell you how I felt. I’m so happy you’re fine.
You’re alive. And you’re here. I just, Layla, you know I never
stopped loving you,” he said and then pulled me toward him. Before
I knew it, we had fallen into a deep kiss.

How much I had missed him. Every
muscle in my body melted. My mind, swimming in a vodka haze, let go
of guilt. I relaxed into his embrace. My hands greedily roved over
his shoulders, neck, and under his shirt to touch his
skin.

Untying my belt, he pushed the robe
open. I was naked underneath. He kissed my neck and shoulders, his
hands gently stroking my breasts. I shimmied out of the robe and
pulled his shirt over his head. I pulled him against me, his bare
skin against mine. We lay back on the couch. I could feel him,
hard, inside his jeans. I took his hand to guide it between my
legs, but when my fingers interlaced with his, I felt his wedding
ring. Shame washed over me. I opened my eyes. I pulled myself
upright and slid my robe back on.

“
Layla?”

I stood up, picked his shirt back up,
and threw it at him.

“
Get out,” I
said.

“
Layla? What
happened?”

“
You can’t solve every
complex feeling you have by fucking someone. Get out. Go home and
mourn your wife like a real man would,” I said and opened the
door.

Shame-faced, he pulled his shirt on
and went outside. He stopped on the porch. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
come here for that. I just came to say I am so glad you’re alive,”
he said and walked away.

I slammed the door behind him.
Outside, the metal gate opened and shut. A moment later the truck
started and the headlights disappeared back down the road. I slid
down the door to the floor and put my head on my knees. Then there
was a strange buzzing sound, like the sound you hear during a bad
storm, followed by a pop. The lights and all the appliances went
out.

“
Dammit,” I
whispered.

The fire had burned down to a bank of
embers. I felt around the kitchen table for the candles. Grandma
had left a box of them sitting there. Striking a match, I lit a
candle and turned toward the living room.

I nearly screamed. My
grandmother was sitting in her favorite chair in front of the
fireplace doing crochet. Like the Native American chief, I saw my
grandmother and saw through her all at once.
Don’t forget to lock the gate
, she
said without looking up.

I turned toward the door, considering
her words, then turned back. When I did, she was gone, but her
sewing was sitting on the chair, and I couldn’t remember if it had
been there all along or not.

Taking the flashlight and
my shashka, I went outside. I could hear a strange
clang, clang, clang
noise as I walked toward the gate. At the gate was a young
woman whose face was so badly torn apart I couldn’t recognize her.
Her entire nose had been torn off, revealing fleshy pulp inside.
She must have followed Ian’s truck up the road. She was pushing at
the gate, biting and snapping when she saw me.

I kept my flashlight on her and got
close. We stood across from one another locked in a stare. I
wondered about “brain activity.” Clearly, the undead hungered, but
did they think? In that same moment, I also realized she had a
bright red ribbon in her hair.

I felt confused and frustrated.
“Stop,” I commanded and for a moment she was still. But then she
snapped and snarled again.

I sighed. I lifted the sword and
thrust it through her skull. She fell like a bag of bones. I locked
the gate and headed inside, barring the door behind me. This time I
went directly to bed. While my grandmother lived on in the spirit,
the world was now filled with the undead, and I’d had enough
fighting the undead for one day.

Chapter 9

I was sitting on the front porch
drinking fire-brewed coffee when Jamie pulled up in my SUV. I
swished the truly awful coffee around in my mouth. It was bitter
and laced with grounds. I dumped the remaining liquid over the side
of the porch and went to let Jamie in.

“
Power out here too?” he
asked.

I nodded. “I’d offer you some coffee,
I made it over the fireplace, but I think you’d never forgive me.
Looks like Grandma forgot to stock up on instant.”

“
Well, maybe she wanted
you learn how to cook.”

“
Nothing like the
apocalypse to force us to learn new skills.”

We both laughed.

“
You ready?”

I was already dressed, my weapons
reloaded. I’d added throwing daggers to my belt and had slid the
poyasni into my boots. I patted the shashka. “You bet.”

Closing up everything behind us, we
headed down Fox Hollow Road.

“
So what’s the plan?”
Jamie asked.

“
I have an idea, but we
need the police cruiser. Do you think that will be a
problem?”

Jamie shook his head. “Some of the
guys have already been in the Sheriff’s Office to clear out the
guns. The car is still sitting there.”

“
Ok, first we get the
car.”

We drove across town to the Sheriff’s
Office. It was a small building that sat close to the river. The
cruiser was parked outside. We exited carefully, keeping an eye out
for the undead. The door to the office was open. When we reached
the doorway we could hear grunting coming from inside.

“
I thought this place was
clear,” I whispered.

“
It was.”

We couldn’t see anyone when we first
entered. Ducking low, we crept around the front desk. There was an
old man in the break room. He was rocking back and forth; his
clothes were ragged, and one arm was clearly dislocated.

Jamie stood, raising his gun, but I
stopped him. I patted my throwing daggers. Careful to get into
position, I unsheathed one dagger and, sending it over hand,
launched it through the air. It hit him squarely in the back of the
head. He fell with a thump.

“
I think you’re on
steroids,” Jamie said with a grin.

I shook my head. “No, I just practice
and work out a lot.”

“
So I see,” Jamie replied,
playfully eyeing me over.

“
I’ll get the knife. Grab
the keys?”

Jamie nodded and headed toward the
desk.

I headed toward the break room to
retrieve my knife. The body of the old man lay still on the floor.
When I turned the corner, however, I got jumped. An enormous undead
man had been standing in a blind-spot. We’d missed him. When I
walked in, he attacked. Seconds later he slammed me to the floor. I
hit the ground hard. “James!” I screamed.

The massive undead man lay sideways on
top of me. He snapped at me, his mouth a mess of mangled flesh and
bloody saliva. I struggled to keep him from making contact with my
skin. I tried to push him off but he was too heavy.

Jamie was there the next second and
kicked the man off of me. The undead man fell to the floor and with
one shot, Jamie took him out.

“
Oh my god, oh my god,” I
whispered, frantically pulling off my shirt and gloves. Had his
flesh touched mine?

“
Pants too,” Jamie said in
a rush and helped me unbuckle my belt which fell to the ground.
Seconds later I stood in the middle of the Sheriff’s office,
completely naked save my bra and underwear, my entire body
shaking.

“
Did it touch your skin?
Did it get any saliva on you?”

I shook my head. “No, no, I don’t
think so.

Jamie grabbed me by the arm and pulled
me to the sink where we washed down my arms and legs with the icy
cold water. I scrubbed my arms while Jamie scrubbed my legs and
waist. Something made my stomach lurch with an emotion far
different than fear as I felt Jamie’s wet hands sliding gently
around my body. My eyes fluttered closed.

“
No signs of
contamination. Skin looks good,” Jamie said, eyeing me over. “Oh my
god, Layla.”

I stood shaking. Too many emotions
overwhelmed me.

“
I’ll go to the back and
get you something to put on,” he said.

Shivering, I waited. Minutes later he
returned with a standard issue police uniform, fingerless leather
gloves, and a brown leather jacket. I pulled the clothes on and,
still shaking, went back out front.

“
Christ, my heart is still
beating in my throat,” Jamie whispered.

I nodded. “I’m okay. We can
go.”

“
You sure?”

I nodded.

Jamie grabbed the keys, and we headed
toward the car.

“
Go to the end of Main
Street, and we’ll start from there,” I said, trying to refocus.
“We’ll need to use the PA speaker system, but we’re bound to
attract company.”

Jamie set two guns on the seat beside
him. “We’re good.”

He drove the police cruiser toward the
end of town, and we made the turn back. He slowed the car. I
grabbed the CB and flipped the speaker system on.

“
Test. Hamletville
citizens, test,” I said into the speaker as Jamie adjusted the
volume. “Are you alive inside? Hang a white cloth out a window if
you are alive. Hang a red cloth if you are injured. Hang black if
there are undead inside with you,” I projected.

“
Assuming their clothes
aren’t in the wash,” Jamie said.

Finally relaxing, I punched him
playfully on the shoulder.

And so we began to make our passes,
street by street, repeating the message. It was not long until the
aimless undead were drawn by the sound of my voice. When we hit
Briar Street we found ourselves facing a small horde of ten or so.
At the front I recognized Paul Lacombe, the town’s mailman. My
grandma used to leave a tin of cookies in the mailbox for him every
year at Christmas time. With regret, we jumped out of the police
car and took Paul and the others out. We cruised up and down the
street, announcing all morning. By noon or so, we had hit every
street. We then stopped by the community center and rang the fire
alarm twice. After, we headed toward the elementary
school.

We found a dozen people already
assembled inside the gym. Tom and Jeff were standing guard at the
door. Those inside had been busy stocking the place with
supplies.

“
Oh, thank goodness,” Mrs.
Finch said when she saw us. “We have a minor problem,” she added
and pulled us to the side. “Jamie, I didn’t want to tell Tom, but
his little niece, Karie, has gone bad. We locked her in Mrs.
White’s classroom. I just didn’t know how Tom would take it. He’s
lost everyone else. I think he was holding out hope for her. Can
you please take care of her?” Mrs. Finch told us.

I looked at Jamie and shook my head.
“No, he should know.”

Jamie looked back and forth from Mrs.
Finch to myself and then to Tom. “It may break him. That guy is
mush on the inside.”

“
Should we let him have
false hope while one of us executes his niece?”

“
Oh Jamie, just do it,”
Mrs. Finch said, ignoring me.

I shook my head. “I’ll talk to
him.”

“
Layla,” Mrs. Finch
grumbled.

“
He should decide, not
us,” I replied and went to Tom.

Mrs. Finch was clearly angry but said
nothing. She went back to work, slamming boxes from one table onto
another. I approached Tom carefully.

“
Hey Tom, can you come
with me? Jamie will take your post for a minute,” I said, taking
hold of Tom’s arm.

“
Well, good morning,
Layla,” Jeff said with a raunchy smile. “Hey, wasn’t that Ian’s
truck I saw going up Fox Hollow Road last night?”

I glared at him.

Jamie raised a questioning eyebrow but
said nothing.