The Harvesting

by Melanie Karsak

  The house was dark. I knocked heavily. There was no answer.

  “Jamie?” I called.

  Nothing.

  I went to the window and peeked inside. It was totally dark; there was no movement.

  He must have gone to Ian’s house. I jumped back on the bike and headed across town. There was no sign of anyone anywhere. Neither the dead nor the living stirred.

  Ian’s and Kristie’s house sat on upper Seneca Street. Kristie’s grandmother had died and left the house to them. It was a large, white two-story with an attached greenhouse on the side. The greenhouse had fallen into disrepair, weeds growing wildly inside. The house was empty.

  I was about to head toward the elementary school when I heard a horn sounding from the lake. Standing on Ian’s porch, I had a view of the lake below. I pulled out my binoculars. There, on the dock, I could see what looked like the last of the town residents being loaded aboard the ship. Almost everyone was on board already. Mrs. Finch was pushing Ian in a wheelchair down the dock toward the boat. I could see Jamie at the ship’s plank arguing with the man who had introduced himself as Corbin. The last few residents were just boarding.

  “Oh my god,” I whispered. I would be left behind.

  I jumped on the bike and gunned it. Praying someone would see my headlight, I sped across town, cutting through lawns and the grocery store parking lot. As I blasted through, I noticed several undead had collected just outside the town library. They paused, watching as I passed. I swerved by them and headed toward the water. Down over the bank, passing the Fisherman’s Wharf, I hit the lake-side walking path. I sped toward the boat.

  I noticed that two men were pulling up the plank. Jamie was there with them, talking incessantly, waving his arms. Tom pulled him back and held him out of the crewman’s way.

  Then, they heard the bike. I saw Jamie shout to the men and pointed toward me. The men paused.

  I drove the bike down the dock and parked it under the pavilion. Jumping off, I jogged down the wooden planks, hopping the swinging pedestrian gate, and ran to the end.

  Corbin, the hawkish looking man, stood at the rail nearest the plank. The crewman seemed to wait for his command. He looked down at me. When our eyes met, I could feel him challenging me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said with a smile, trying to play it off.

  He wasn’t buying me anymore than I was buying him.

  “Let her on,” I heard Jamie yell, but I could not see him.

  Corbin leaned over the railing to look more closely at me. We were standing nearly face to face. “Should I let you on?” he whispered.

  I held his gaze, not backing down. “Let me on.”

  He motioned to the men to lower the plank.

  I looked at him.

  This time, he smiled at me. “Remember later, you asked to come,” he whispered.

  “I’m here to keep those I love safe. You remember that,” I replied, holding his gaze.

  He smiled, motioned for me to come aboard, and then he disappeared back into the ship.

  The steel rail felt cold beneath my hand. I turned and looked back once more toward the town. There, above the town on the Point, I saw the figure of a man. He seemed to lean back into an archer’s pose. He shot a shadow arrow that burned like a shooting star across the night’s sky. I took a deep breath and boarded the ship.

  Chapter 23

  I was met on board by the smiles of the people I had come to love.

  Jamie fought his way through the crowd and grabbed me, nearly crushing me. “You’re pressing my throwing daggers into my back,” I whispered to him.

  He let go with a chuckle and looked down at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said rapidly, the words falling too loudly and somewhat broken from my mouth.

  “No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry too. I understand,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

  I pressed my cheek against his chest. I opened my eyes to see Ian looking at us. He looked away.

  “Why did you change your mind?” Jamie asked. He took my hand and led me toward the railing. The boat had turned and was now gliding across the lake. The town was no longer in sight.

  “Well, I needed a vacation. I hear the HarpWind is nice.”

  Jamie smiled wryly. “Seriously,” he whispered.

  I turned and looked back toward the Captain’s deck of the yacht. Therein I could see the heads of our new benefactors moving about. “I’m not wrong, and I haven’t changed my mind,” I said.

  He looked up at the deck as well. “Yeah, well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

  It took about three hours to cross the lake in the swift yacht. Soon, the lights of the HarpWind Grand Hotel appeared on the horizon. The place was dimly lit; they were using candles and lanterns. The hotel’s lights appeared like ghostly shadows on the water, breaking amongst the waves.

  The captain of the boat sounded the horn.

  It was met by the clang of a cast-iron triangle at the end of the hotel’s pier.

  Jamie and I exchanged glances.

  When we arrived, a number of people were there to greet us. Many were other survivors who shook our hands and asked us from where we’d come. They were a mixed group coming from small towns and cities scattered all around the Great Lakes. Amongst them were hotel proprietors who helped us make our way up the path to the opulent HarpWind Grand Hotel.

  “I need to go help Ian,” Jamie whispered to me.

  I nodded and then, dodging through the crowd, I found Frenchie. I picked up Susan and set her onto my shoulders. She laughed. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the hotel.

  She was right. It was beautiful. The hotel was five stories in height and stretched long. It curved with the shape of the land, making the hotel crescent shaped. I remembered that the word Enita, the name of the island, meant moon; I’d see it in the documentary. The first two floors of the hotel were stone, the upper floors were New England style shingle sided. As we walked toward the massive structure, I could see the chandelier in the foyer was alive with candle-light. The crystals sparkled.

  Frenchie took my hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  We were led into the main foyer. A massive stone fireplace burned cheerfully. It stemmed off the cool chill in the air.

  A pale looking girl with long black hair and flashing pale blue eyes introduced herself as Matilda. She began handing out room keys and taking names. The more I looked at her, the more I realized I recognized her as the face I had seen amongst the crowd on New Year’s Eve. When she got to me and Frenchie, she paused. She looked thoughtfully at me. I looked back with a hard gaze.

  “The man there said that you, the girl with the sword,” she said, looking at the weapon hanging from my belt, “are roomed with him: 415,” she said smiling sweetly as she handed me a key.

  I took the key but shot Jamie an inquisitive look. He smiled bashfully and shrugged.

  “And you are?” she said, looking at Frenchie.

  “Frenchie Davis, and this is Kira and Susan,” she introduced, but I squeezed Frenchie’s hand hard, and she said no more.

  “Aw, how cute,” Matilda said, looking at Kira and Susan. The expression on her face told me she thought they were anything but cute.

  “She needs a room beside mine,” I told Matilda.

  Matilda turned to look at me, and I noticed that same odd movement about her I had seen in Corbin. She stared at me for a moment. “I’m sorry, I have nothing available, but I do have 313 for you, Ms. Davis. There are two beds in that room,” she replied and handed Frenchie a key.

  After she had gone, I joined Jamie and Ian. Jamie was standing at the back of Ian’s wheelchair.

  “Where are you?” I asked Ian. He was holding a key in his hand.

  “They put me on the ground floor near the infirmary: room 195. I guess the doctor will be able to see me right away. I’m going now,” Ian said.

  I took Jamie’s bag from his shoulder. “I got this.”

  Jamie nodded. “I’ll b
e up in a few.”

  Ian looked away, but I had seen the look on his face.

  Jamie turned and pushed Ian down the hallway.

  Matilda had finished passing out the keys and was standing with the clipboard at the check-in table. I noticed a man behind the counter. He had the same odd way about him as the others and had long, black hair, light eyes, and pale skin.

  I went up to them. Trying to play nice, I smiled at Matilda. “I’d like a copy of that list,” I said, looking down at her clipboard.

  She looked surprised. “Whatever for?”

  As I looked at her, I thought about how easily we fall for anyone who seems to be in authority. Our natural paranoia, eroded by near bombardment of our private lives, has stripped us of the instinct to shelter ourselves from strangers. Everyone I loved had put their name on that list, had allowed these people to tell them exactly where they would be. I did not like it one bit. I gave Matilda a hard look.

  In that moment, I saw a dark shadow pass over her face, the mask falling away. She covered it quickly. “Well, as you know, we have no Xerox,” she said with a smile. “Perhaps Ambrosio will write the list down for you?” she said, looking to the man.

  He looked me over from head to foot. “You may stop by for it tomorrow.”

  I knew there would never be a list if I depended on them. “Don’t trouble yourself,” I said, taking the clipboard from her hand. “I got it.”

  She looked astonished and gazed at the man she’d called Ambrosio.

  I grabbed a sheet of paper off the counter and jotted down the room numbers of the Hamletville citizens.

  “We didn’t get your name,” Ambrosio told me, coming around from behind the counter to stand in front of me.

  I smiled, handed Matilda her clipboard, and set the pen down. “No, you didn’t,” I said and walked away.

  As I left, I heard them murmuring between one another.

  I was there, but I didn’t have to like it.

  Chapter 24

  It turned out that room 415 was a bridal suite; there was a plaque on the door. I set down the bags and looked the space over. It was beautiful. Someone had lit a number of candles, filling the space with a soft, romantic glow. A large poster bed was draped with gauzy white cloth. The bed was covered in a light purple satin coverlet. The ornate Victorian furniture was romantic. A settee piled with pillows looked out at the lake. The moonlight was reflecting on the pitching waves.

  For a moment, I pretended. I pretended the world had not fallen apart. I pretended that the undead were not walking around. I pretended that earth spirits were not talking to me. I pretended I’d come home from D.C. on vacation and had fallen in love with Jamie. I pretended we had gotten married and that my grandmother had smiled benevolently on me, me dressed in white, as Jamie and I married in a Russian Orthodox ceremony. I pretended that Jamie had brought me here as a honeymoon surprise. I played pretend, just for a moment, and then I was done. It did not do to play pretend.

  I went then to the window and checked the lock. It was bolted loosely from the inside. I removed the ornate tie-backs from the window and laced them around the window locks. I then checked the room for any other entrances. The only other way to get in was the front door. I dragged the writing desk from one side of the room and jammed the door handle, barricading the door.

  I pulled the curtains shut and then unrolled my weapons bundle. I stood looking down on them, considering what to do next. I checked the cartridge on the Glock and stuffed it into the holster. I reloaded the Magnum and did the same. There was a small ammo pouch on the holster, inside I stuffed the holy water inside—just in case. I also stuffed Jamie’s water gun, still loaded, into a pocket. I adjusted the shashka scabbard to bandolier style and threaded the throwing daggers onto a belt. From my boots I pulled out the doe and wolf poyasni. I slid each across the small whet stone I carried in the weapon roll and then stuffed them back into my boots.

  A short while later there was a knock on the door.

  I leaned against the door, sword drawn, and looked through the key-hole.

  “Layla?” Jamie called.

  I moved the desk and opened the door.

  “I would have just come in, but I didn’t want you to shoot me.”

  “I had the door barricaded anyway,” I said, motioning to the desk.

  He laughed. “I heard.” He then looked around the room, at least the parts of it I had not dismantled. “Wow. This is really something.”

  “Well, it is the bridal suite.”

  Jamie look embarrassed. “Look, I’m not trying to, you know, force any issue. I just wanted you safe—with me. That’s all.”

  I laid my sword on the bed and wrapped my hands around his neck. I pulled him into a deep kiss, my hand sliding across his back and shoulders, fingers toying with the hair at the base of his neck. He held me tightly, pressing my body against him. I could feel the heat rising between us.

  Again, there was a knock on the door.

  We broke apart, both of us breathing heavily.

  Jamie regained his composure and answered the door. I picked up the shashka.

  “Alright,” he said to whoever was on the other side, “okay, thank you,” he added and then closed the door. “We’re invited for a night-cap in an hour. The hosts want to welcome us,” he said.

  “The hosts, eh?” I looked back at my weapons. “How is Ian?”

  “They got him settled in and the doctor was by to take some blood. He said they are going to do as many tests as they can. Mrs. Finch was by and told them what she’d already seen. Ian was really tired and wanted to sleep so I left him be.”

  “What about the doctor? How did he seem?”

  “Normal. He is from a research hospital in Ohio.”

  “I don’t like leaving Ian alone,” I said.

  “Me either. This whole thing is—I don’t know what it is. I mean, I saw those shadows too.”

  “There are other strange things out there as well; I’ve seen spirits, earth spirits, ancestral spirits, I don’t know what, exactly.”

  Jamie raised his eyebrows at me in surprise.

  “I think my grandma was right. She always said that we are not alone in this world. We humans, we are not the only creatures on this plane. Now than humankind is not creating so much noise, maybe those other things in this world are more apparent.”

  Jamie looked thoughtful. “And what the hell are these people?”

  I pulled out the squirt gun Jamie had given me. It had seemed a funny gift at the time. We both looked at it.

  “The holy water,” Jamie said considering.

  I nodded.

  Jamie took the little yellow and blue plastic gun and looked at it; his forehead furrowed.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Well, Grandma Petrovich got all those guns and everything, right? You used all that stuff to protect us. And she also got holy water.”

  I waited.

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Every movie, T.V. show, comic book, video game—there is only one thing that you can kill with holy water,” Jamie said.

  And in the moment, it was obvious.

  “Vampires?” I whispered.

  He nodded.

  “But these people seem . . . like I don’t know what. They aren’t like the classic or romantic stories you hear. There is something awkward about them. Do you know what I mean? I’m not afraid, I just . . . ”

  “ . . . just don’t want to deal with their shit? Well, we’ve spent the last half year being chased by the undead. Maybe it has numbed us.”

  I shrugged. “What is this world we’re living in?”

  “And what do they want from us?” Jamie replied.

  Indeed, what did they want?

  Chapter 25

  “Bloody hell,” Jeff exclaimed as we stood in front of more food than any of us had seen in the last six months. A massive buffet of gourmet looking treats was spread out before us on a long table illuminated by candles. Alread
y many of the other guests and the Hamletville townspeople were munching on hors d’oeuvres. We had been called to the massive ballroom of the hotel. It was beautiful. The carpet had a brocade design with dark blue and gold flowers. The recessed ceiling was painted with celestial images. The wallpaper was deep blue and had spiraling silver stars inlaid. The massive chandeliers overhead twinkled beautifully. The room was arranged comfortably with small groupings of chairs and tables; they all faced a row of seats at the front.

  Jamie looked hungrily at the food, but I held him back.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  “Did you have Mrs. May for 12th grade English?” I asked him.

  He looked confused. “Yes.”

  “Did she make you read The Odyssey?”

  “I think so.”

  “There is the story, right, where Odysseus and his men are shipwrecked on the island with the Lotus Eaters.”

  “Ah, yeah, I remember now. They eat lotus flowers all day long and forget home. They feel pleasure but forget everything else.”

  “You got it,” I replied.

  “But what are we going to do, fish?”

  “I brought MRE’s.”

  Jamie cringed.

  “Sorry.”

  “The undead I can handle, but I am not sure I can take another MRE.”

  I smiled, taking glasses of wine for him and myself from a serving tray. “Try to look happy,” I replied, “but don’t drink.”

  “This is getting worse by the second,” Jamie grumbled.

  After we’d been there for just a short while, a strikingly beautiful blonde woman in an all-black jumper rang a small bell. “Everyone, please take a seat,” she called sweetly, her crystalline eyes shining in the glimmering lamplight. I noticed, just for a second, a familiar lilt in her voice.

  Jamie and I sat. Pastor Frank, Jeff, Summer, and Ethel sat nearest us. I noticed Frenchie was not there, and I worried. I hoped she’d played it safe and just put the girls to bed. I was surprised, however, by the number of people who were there. There were at least 75 people in the room. In that moment it seemed to me there were three groups of people there: humans, unusual looking hotel staff, and those we suspected were vampires. I eyed the hotel staff closely. Their skin was rosy and full, but there was a strange aura about them. They seemed more beautiful, more luminescent than the rest of us, like they all had just had a great massage and facial. They intermixed freely with the vampires, not seeming the slightest bit nervous.