2012: Winter Harvest

by Linda Andrews

extreme heat and cold. We think they hunt at night because they see in the Infrared range. That’s it. I swear it.” Annoyance flared in her almond shaped eyes before she raised her hands in surrender and stopped struggling. “Look, the west side of the building had the most recent sun exposure and the cement sidewalk holds the heat longer. Hopefully, it will buy us some time to either find somewhere to hide or mask your body heat.”

  A familiar tap of stilettoes sounded from the street beyond.

  “For every one you see, there’s always two you don’t.” The major wiggled out of his grip, dropped her veil over her face and strode to a clear spot in the street.

  Handfuls of spent ammunition cartridges tinkled to a stop against the melted tires of a sedan. The military had put up one hell of a fight but they had still died. Vrain considered his options. Hide and cower or be served up live and kicking for dinner?

  The major pulled a silver camera from her pocket and focused on them.

  “You’re going to film us?” the boy asked.

  “I want to make certain your heat signature isn’t noticeable.” The major bit her full bottom lip. “Damn. You guys are like matches at midnight.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Crouch by the Hummer.” Vrain shoved the boy into the street. He staggered the four extra steps toward the burning vehicle. “And don’t move when they come.”

  The children looked from him to the major.

  “Go,” the major urged.

  The boy staggered toward the smoldering vehicle. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, the girl followed. The Danavas touched down ten feet from their position.

  “Keep your hands in your pockets.” The major shouted, looking over the top of the camera.

  “Shh.” Vrain hissed, diving into position beside the smoking sedan. Sweat beaded his forehead from the heat. He was tempted to breathe through his nose but one whiff of the fetid creatures changed his mind.

  “They can’t hear us. Unless you’re singing an operatic aria that can break glass, your voice isn’t within their hearing range. No one made the connection until they attacked the base. We should have listened to the dogs, they can hear them.”

  Vrain snorted. She’d conveniently left that tidbit out. What else had she forgotten to mention? “Does the military have a weapon to fight them?”

  “I wish. We tried fire, water, viruses and even sent a few MIRVed nukes into space to destroy their nests.” An eight foot tall Danavas circled the major. She wrinkled her nose and reared back as its wing skimmed her shoulder. “The only thing it did was piss them off. Ever hit a hornet’s nest with a bat? This was worse. Much worse.”

  The monster paused and stared directly at her before blinking its oval eyes. Saliva dripped from the row of exposed pointed teeth. The creature’s head spun 180 degrees to inspect the sedan at Vrain’s back.

  “If you don’t have weapons,” Vrain prodded, visually searching the wreckage, “why did you come out?”

  “Food.” The major licked her lips but her posture remained rigid. “The base’s rations are stored at the National Guard Armory. We hoped to make it there before nightfall.” She cleared her throat. “Didn’t happen but I’m sticking with the plan. The Armory has enough meals ready to eat to feed everyone until the Second Coming.”

  Vrain curled into himself hoping he didn’t stand out too much against the burning tire. Food, water and bullets to spare. “Sounds like paradise. How far?”

  The Danavas lost interest and took flight.

  “Too far. We should try to make it to the Deck Park Tunnel. The Val-Trans station should be deep enough to hide our body heat.”

  “No.” Vrain spat the raw denial. Hundreds of corpses littered the Deck Park Tunnel, a sanctuary Vrain had guided citizens to. A refuge that had allowed the creatures to pick all the people he’d rescued off easier than netting fish from a bucket.

  “There should be some water,” she shrugged and as if she didn’t hear him, “but we’ll have to forage for food.”

  “The Danavas found the tunnel.” Vrain’s hoarse shout finally caught her attention. “How far to the armory?”

  Her forehead wrinkled then she nodded once. “Six miles.”

  “Forever.” The blood drained from the sky, leaving only the gray pallor of death and the swooping creatures delivering it. The temperature dropped even more with the sun gone. Maybe dumb luck had kept him alive for the last four months. If so, it had just run out. “I doubt we can count on more burning military convoys to hide us.”

  “The heat stored in the buildings and ground is dissipating fast.” The major scanned their surroundings with her camera. “We need some ice packs and foil.”

  Well hell, why not just order unicorns and magic beans? Vrain shoved his sarcasm into the pit with the rest of his useless emotion. He pushed off the ground and joined her in the center of the street. “The electricity has been off in most parts of the city for weeks. Between that and the looting, I doubt we’ll find anything frozen.”

  The major panned the camera down the length of the strip mall catty-corner to the office building. She flipped the screen so he could see it. A white, red and orange box glowed against the navy background of the screen. “We may be in luck.”

  “You think that’s a freezer?”

  She handed him the camera and smiled. “It’s in an ice cream parlor.” She removed a couple of hand grenades from her pocket, two 9mm clips and tucked them into the pocket of his Hoodie. From another pocket she removed a can of lighter fluid, a case of waterproof matches and some powdered charcoal. “If I’m not back in a few minutes you may need to light a fire. Stand about ten feet away from the flames. The Danavas will come close but they shouldn’t eat you.”

  “You’re not going alone.”

  “You need the fire.” She opened her jacket, reminding him that her Mylar blanket and patted the lumpy ice packs tucked into her pants that hid her body heat. “I don’t.”

  “One warm spot is just as good as another.” Vrain focused on the two teenagers by the vehicle. Their outlines were becoming noticeable.

  The major set her square jaw. “We need to hurry.”

  “Stay close and run fast.” Vrain addressed the children. “Move.” He took the lead, glancing once to make certain everyone followed. Satisfied, he cut a straight path through the parking lot. He slammed a car door as he approached, leaped over a twisted shopping cart to jump through the glassless window frame. The jagged piece of glass ripped his jean’s leg. Vrain kicked out the remaining shards before helping the two teenagers through. The major disguised their heat signature from behind by opening her jacket.

  “You two stand against that wall.” He pointed to the wall nearest the freezer when something grabbed his ankle. “Shit!” He shook it off then looked down. Through the flickering moonlight he saw the body. Light glinted off the pleading eyes. Packaged humans were stacked like cord wood in the booths and on the tables. Some wiggled. Most were corpse still.

  “Don’t touch them.” The major warned. “Whatever material the Danavas wrap their victims in contains a scent they can track anywhere.”

  Vrain shook his head. The major really needed to work on her communications skills. Did she think he’d leave her behind if he knew as much as she did? Shadows squirmed over the interior of the ice cream parlor. Vrain turned on his flashlight. Violence pocked the once pristine walls and made a mockery of the bucolic country prints and happy cows.

  “We have to hurry.” The major set her hand over the light. “They’ll return to collect them soon.”

  “Let’s check the freezer.” Vrain vaulted over the counter, kicking over a bent stool. The clang filled the store and drifted into the night. He shined the light onto the freezer door. Large dents covered the surface. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who wanted in.” He grabbed hold of the latch and pulled. The door opened faster than he’d thought, shoving him back into the counter. His flashlight dropped to the ground and went out. Pain cut across his sp
ine just as he spied the glint of moonlight on the knife slicing toward his chest.

  “Ahhh!” The throaty scream belonged to the bloated form charging from the freezer.

  Vrain caught the hand holding the blade and slammed it against the edge of the door. Before the knife clattered to the floor, he pinned his assailant against the counter. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  She shoved him. Her scarf slipped off revealing gray curls.

  He obliged her by retreating out of the cone of light spilling from inside the walk-in freezer.

  “Just because you’re human, doesn’t mean you’re any less of a threat than those demons.” Disgust flashed through her cloudy blue eyes before she dropped to the floor to grope for her fallen knife.

  Vrain quietly wedged the blade between the kick plate of the cabinet and the back of his hiking boots. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just need some ice.”

  “Ice?” Arthritic hands wrapped around the edge of the stainless steel countertop. Chuffing, she struggled to her feet. “I sell ice cream not ice. You can have some.” Her attention shifted to his rifle. “But it will cost you.”

  “Guns aren’t much use against the demons.”

  The major jerked her head slightly toward the freezer.

  Vrain nodded. He’d noticed the stocky man with baseball bat standing in the door frame and counted twelve people huddled between the racks inside the freezer.

  “They can’t get us in here.” Granny rapped on the thick freezer door.