The Harvesting

by Melanie Karsak

  Will nodded and took off in a sprint across the grassy field, keeping as low as possible in the tall weeds.

  I lifted the binoculars and watched him go.

  “Do you always have to be right, man?” I heard Ian grumble at Jamie.

  “Just being cautious,” Jamie answered.

  Will moved quickly and soon he was at the building. “He’s clear so far,” I said. I watched as Will looked into the windows of the club. He flashed me an “okay” sign and then dodged around the back of the building and out of sight. I held my breath. We waited.

  Moments later, Will came running from behind the building. He was dashing quickly through the grass. “They’re coming,” he yelled. “They’re coming,” he screamed again as he ran toward us.

  Seconds later, cresting over the shooting range hill, two dozen little bodies appeared. I lifted the binoculars. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “Oh god,” I said, pressing the binoculars toward Jamie.

  Without even waiting to know what was coming, Summer yelped and jumped back into my SUV.

  Jamie lifted the binoculars and took a quick look. “Is that the Cub Scouts?” he asked in amazement.

  I jumped into the driver’s seat of Ian’s truck. “We need to get Will,” I called to the guys. They hopped into the back, and I hit the gas.

  I sped across the bumpy field to intercept Will. When he was close, Ian and Dusty leaned down and pulled Will into the back of the truck.

  “Layla, turn the truck around so we can get a line of fire on them,” Jamie called.

  I turned the truck, and getting it on higher ground, pulled to a stop. At once they started to fire.

  “Fuck, there is like two dozen of them,” Will called. “They are in the god damned weeds. I can’t see a thing.”

  “Layla, we need your automatic,” Ian yelled to me.

  I shimmied through the window of the pick-up cab and stood in the back. I unholstered the gun and took aim. The first child appeared in the grass. He was still in his Cub Scout uniform. Half of his face was a bloody pulp. He looked like a broken cherub. He came crashing toward us at an alarming rate.

  “Layla, shoot,” Ian yelled at me.

  A moment later six more children emerged from the weeds. The guys shot at them but they were quick, moving swiftly toward the truck.

  “Layla, shoot that fucking gun,” Ian yelled at me.

  I stood frozen.

  “Shoot that fucking gun!” Ian screamed again.

  A split-second later Jamie took the automatic from my hands. “It’s alright,” he whispered. Turning then, he launched a barrage of bullets toward the oncoming children. They fell quickly. I backed up toward the cab. A moment later, however, I heard the horn on my SUV honking.

  I looked back. At least four women were clawing at the side of my SUV. I realized then that Summer had locked herself in without the keys.

  A boy grabbed at Will’s leg, nearly pulling him to the ground. Dusty shot the child’s brain through his ear.

  I looked back at Summer. “Dammit,” I swore. I pulled the Glock from the holster, climbed over the roof and down onto the hood of the truck, and set off in a sprint toward Summer.

  “Layla!” Jamie called, but the children kept coming at them.

  I dashed through the field back toward Summer. When I got close, I whistled to draw the undead Cub Scout moms’ attention. Afraid I would hit Summer, I didn’t want to shoot toward the SUV.

  The women turned and lunged toward me. I was quick. I shot the first two with no problem. The second two were fast and I missed. As the third one came close, I finally got a shot off. The fourth, however, seemed to purposefully avoid being shot. She dodged. I pulled my sword and let her get in close. I swung, decapitating her. Her head fell to the ground. The body wandered across the grass a few more steps then toppled over.

  I stood over the head. It was still biting and snapping at me. I stabbed it between the eyes; the pale moons lost their sheen.

  I ran toward Summer but heard rustling in the brush behind me. I turned to find a plump little red haired boy bearing down on me. In that moment, I knew I had to get past it. Child or not, he would kill me and eat me alive. Or worse yet, turn me into one of them.

  He grunted and charged.

  I pulled a dagger out of my belt and lobbed it at him. It hit him squarely between the eyes. He fell to the ground with a thud.

  I looked behind me to see Ian swing into the cab of the truck. They drove back toward the SUV. In the back, the others fired shots into the weeds.

  I bent low to pull my dagger from the boy’s head. I pulled the dagger, sticky with blood, from his little forehead. I felt sick. I turned and retched into the weeds. It was too horrible.

  I’d just caught my breath when the truck pulled up beside me. Jamie jumped out and came over to me; Will went to the SUV to check on Summer.

  Jamie put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?” he whispered.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up. “Yeah,” I said with a heavy sigh.

  “Layla, you alright?” Ian called from the truck.

  I nodded.

  “Come on,” Jamie said. He took the dagger from my hand and cleaned it on the grass. He handed it back to me. “It’s done now,” he said, and we walked back to my SUV.

  Will was talking to Summer, calming her.

  “I’m okay now,” she whispered, wiping tears. She smiled at me and shook her head in disbelief.

  “This is a lot of work for a 5 gallon can of fruit cocktail,” Dusty said finally, causing us all to laugh.

  We loaded back into the vehicles and drove to the hunting club.

  Chapter 12

  We kept a sharp eye on the tall grass as we headed toward the building.

  “We haven’t seen the Scout leaders yet,” Summer observed.

  Everyone’s weapons were poised and ready. Will opened the door. The place was seemingly deserted. The kitchen was in a state of upheaval; brown bag lunches and puddles of blood covered the floor.

  I heard Summer inhale sharply at the sight.

  Bloody child-sized footprints marred the white tile floors.

  “Stay close,” I whispered to Summer. I holstered my gun and pulled my sword from its scabbard.

  We passed through the kitchen and down a hallway toward the reception hall. At the end of the hallway, we stopped and Dusty looked out.

  “Eww, man, there are your Scout leaders,” Dusty said.

  The terrible smell of decay filled the otherwise beautiful room. On the one hand, the room boasted a massive stone fireplace with an elaborately carved mantel. Overhead, a lovely chandelier twinkled in the morning sunlight. The windows were all outlined with stained glass which depicted woodland scenes. Rays of sunlight illuminated the colored glass which cast a rainbow of sunny blotches on the floor. On the other hand, the remains of two men lay heaped on the floor. Not much was left save their skeletons and hanging bits of flesh and entrails. A small boy, about eight years of age, was chewing on the rib-bone of one of the men.

  Ian stepped forward and shot the undead child. The boy’s head exploded, a shower of blood and bits raining onto the floor, and his body toppled over.

  “There could be more,” Jamie said. “Let’s sweep the building. You guys take that end,” he said, motioning to Dusty and Will, “Ian and I can cover this end. Summer and Layla hang here and watch outside for movement,” Jamie said, and they set off in opposite directions.

  I slid my belt knife off and handed it to Summer. “Keep this on you. And we need to get you a gun.”

  “Layla, you know I’m not . . . well, you know,“ she said shaking her head as she took the knife. She stuffed it into her back pocket.

  I knew exactly what she meant. Summer was a gentle girl. She used to squeal when the boys teased her with worms. “Just in case,” I said.

  She nodded.

  Will and Dusty came back.

  “All clear,” Will said. “Let’s head to the kitchen and get st
arted,” he told Summer.

  “I’ll keep watch here,” I said, and the three of them moved off.

  I could not see anything moving outside. I headed toward the long hallway down which Jamie and Ian had disappeared. When I reached hallway, I heard their voices. Their words were heated. As I turned to go the other direction, I accidently caught a snippet of conversation. What I heard made me pause.

  “All I’m saying is apologize, man. Not everyone can just blow a kid’s brains out. You’ve got no business yelling at her like that,” Jamie was saying.

  “She knows it was just in the heat of the moment. She’s fine,” Ian replied.

  “Christ, Ian, after everything you put her through you expect her to just pick up where you left off, with all your bullshit still intact,” Jamie said.

  “What the fuck is it to you, brother? What are you doing with her all the time anyway? What have you got on your mind?”

  “At least I’m seeing her for who she is, not who she was. Which is more than I can say for you,” Jamie replied.

  “You better step off, brother. You better step off,” Ian warned.

  “Or what?” Jamie replied.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement outside. I followed the hallway the opposite direction from where the brothers were arguing. I didn’t want to hear anymore. At the end of the hallway a glass door exited onto a porch that overlooked the shooting stand. I leaned against the glass and looked outside. There was no one there.

  I pushed the door open and went out. I looked around. There was no one, but sitting in the field to the right of the shooting range, I saw a gray wolf. It sat on the lawn looking expectantly at me.

  I walked down the stairs and moved slowly across the lawn toward the animal.

  The wolf turned and trotted into the tall grass. I saw only its tail wagging through the tall weeds, and then the wolf reappeared where the grassy field met the wood-line. It turned once more and stood looking at me. It was almost like it was waiting.

  A moment later the door on the porch opened. I stood still and did not look back. I waited as well.

  “What is it?” Jamie asked, coming up behind me.

  I turned and looked. Only Jamie had come.

  “A wolf, there, at the edge of the forest,” I said, pointing.

  Jamie peered toward the woods.

  The wolf trotted into the trees.

  “That’s unusual,” he said.

  I nodded. “Let’s go check out the shooting range.”

  Jamie walked silently beside me. I could tell he was thinking, and I really hoped he did not know I’d overheard their argument. Embarrassed, I felt like a snoop.

  We rounded the earthen wall and walked down the steps to the shooting stand.

  “Booyah,” Jamie said.

  There, laid out on the tables at the shooting stand, was row after row of guns and ammo.

  “They must have been doing hunter’s safety training or something,” I said as we walked amongst the tables, picking up the rifles.

  “I don’t know what they were doing, but I sure am glad,” Jamie said. “Come on, let’s get the others,” he added and we headed back.

  Jamie went to pull the SUV closer to the range, and I went inside to get some help. As I walked toward the kitchen, I heard Summer and Ian talking.

  “Your reception was so beautiful. You remember the cake? Mom and I almost dropped it carrying it up those back steps,” Summer was telling Ian.

  They both chuckled.

  “Yeah, it really was beautiful. You and your mom really did a great job,” Ian replied.

  A lump rose in my throat.

  I walked into the kitchen just as Dusty and Ian exited the storage cupboard pushing dollies with boxes of food. I smiled. “You think that’s a good haul, wait until you see what we found out back,” I said.

  We finished loading Ian’s truck with the cases of canned foods and then headed around back to the shooting range where Jamie had been loading my SUV. We loaded all the guns and ammo. Inside, we’d also found several more cases of ammo. Though it had been a rough go, the haul was worth it.

  It was after noon when we left the Mara Hunting Club. Jamie and Will rode in the back of Ian’s truck keeping the supplies secure while Summer and Dusty drove my SUV. I rode back with Ian. As we pulled away from the club, I looked in the rear view mirror. The wolf had appeared again at the edge of the forest.

  Ian turned the truck, and we headed back down the hill toward town. The image of the wolf fell out of sight. We’d ridden in silence for a long time when Ian leaned over and took my hand.

  “Hey, sorry I yelled at you today,” he said, squeezing my fingers.

  I nodded but pulled my hand back.

  I looked in the mirror again to find Jamie looking at me. Caught, he smiled abashedly. I smiled and winked playfully at him. Then we headed home.

  Chapter 13

  When I was fifteen, Ian and I had snuck away from my grandma and his parents at the Fourth of July fireworks display to make out under the bridge. I remembered seeing, as we snuck off in the darkness, the townspeople in Grandin Park looking upward as fireworks exploded. Their faces were illuminated shades of green, yellow, and pink in the exploding light. I remembered my grandmother’s face clearest of all. How happy she’d seemed, her face glowing pink, as she delighted in the simple things of life.

  Standing on the street in front of the bridge, I turned and looked behind me. Almost everyone had come. The remaining townspeople were assembled in Grandin Park to watch the newest fireworks display. Sadness and despair wracked every face. People looked like pale, hollow versions of themselves. Everyone shifted nervously about. They wouldn’t miss this sight for the world but were in fear of their lives every second.

  Larry appeared from under the bridge and signaled for everyone to get back. I jogged back toward the park and waited with the others. Larry made a few adjustments to the fuse box and then, with a quick movement, set something alight and ran back to join us.

  “Cover your ears,” Jamie said to me.

  Moments later a sound, much like a fireworks finale, went off. I felt the ground shake under me. We covered our ears and ducked. The old metal bridge groaned. Asphalt flew into the air and dropped into the river below. A huge puff of smoke enveloped the structure, and with a heave, the middle of the Hamletville Bridge began to collapse. There was an awful grinding sound as the bridge seemed to resist its destruction. Finally, the beams gave way and the structure fell apart in the middle, the pieces falling into the river.

  “She’s down,” Larry called.

  “I feel like we just destroyed civilization,” I whispered to Jamie, fighting back tears.

  I turned to look behind me. The residents, their faces long and pale, had already turned away and headed back to whatever they had left.

  The death of the bridge ensured our survival. With the bridge collapsed, there was no way the undead could reach the town from the interstate—unless they decided to swim—which was the main route into our town. The barricades at either end of Main Street were now in place. A mess of old vehicles, scrap metal, farm equipment, and barbed wire and fencing ran cross the road and between buildings at either end of town. The town entryways were now secure enough to slow any visitors. All of us were poignantly aware that there were many farms scattered across the countryside with bodies yet unaccounted for; some visitors were expected. Otherwise there was the wildness of the forest and the dark black waves of the lake to protect us. With the bridge down, there was a certain finality to the entire situation.

  We spent the next three weeks canvassing the town to rid it of pesky undead locked in houses and raiding residents’ homes for supplies. Everything was stored in the elementary school gym. We decided to work on an honors system: take only what you need. We made arrangements to rotate shifts at the school and the barricades. Everyone was accounted for and paired up to be protected. And everyone was acutely aware we’d had absolutely no contact from the outs
ide. Thus far Kiki had no luck with the radio. The world, it seemed, had gone silent. It was something we knew but did not talk about. We were alone.

  Around mid-October Fred noticed that Tander Vineyard and Orchard looked ready to bust at its seams. A popular spot for passing tourists, the Tander Orchard usually offered fruit picking, a pumpkin patch, and hay rides this time of year. Fred Johnson had checked the Tander house but the family was nowhere to be found. We all decided to head out one morning and collect the harvest. Ethel had arranged to show us all how to do canning and had a workshop set up in the gym. We had begun to function like an authentic village.

  Jamie and Fred drove tractors with attached wagons to the farm that morning. Jamie had convinced a reluctant Frenchie to bring the girls. It took some doing. They almost never left the cabin. I didn’t blame Frenchie. If they were my children, I would have stayed put as well.

  I rode with Jamie, Frenchie, and the girls in the wagon. The girls were very excited. It was a chilly fall morning. The first freeze had not yet come, but it was close. The scene looked almost like a tail-gate party. There were about two dozen people there, most of them armed. Empty bushel baskets sat on the ground.

  Ian and Tom approached us when we arrived.

  “Swept the entire place. Looks clear,” Ian said.

  “We’ve got armed folks all around the farm keeping an eye out,” Tom added.

  “I want a pumpkin,” Kira squealed.

  “Me too,” Susan called.

  “Let’s go,” Tom said. He picked Kira up and swung her onto his shoulders.

  Frenchie, hand in hand with Susan, smiled at me and followed Tom.

  I grinned at her.

  April, Summer, Ethel, Jensen, and Larry pulled up in Larry’s van.

  Ethel emerged with a large box. “Until I figure out how to bake in a fire pit, this will have to do,” she said. “I used Mrs. Winchester’s recipe for homemade granola. Got it a bit burnt I’m afraid, and I think I used up the last raisins on the planet,” she said and started handing out small bags to all of us.