The Harvest (Book 2): Eve of Man

by Anne Ferretti

  “Yes father. I think only then will we know his full immunity to the human’s blood.” Eve replied.

  “And you are willing to take this risk?”

  “I’m confident his genetics are everything the Elders expected and possibly more.”

  Agra paused to listen. His suspicions were always heightened when it came to Eve. He checked thoroughly, but found nothing to justify his doubts. “While on Earth, you will collect the boy’s father and bring him back as was decried by the council.”

  “Yes, of course father.” Eve nodded. “I think that task will be made easier by having his son as an enticement.” Eve waited, patient and quiet, while her father looked into the future. A future guided indiscriminately by Eve. A future of certainty to sooth Agra’s underlying fears and anxiety, his insecurities that she wasn’t able to grasp onto.

  Agra relaxed his shoulders, satisfied with what he saw. “I will speak with the Elders.”

  “Thank you father.”

  Agra placed his arm around Eve’s shoulders. “I know coming here has been difficult for you, but do you see how pleased I am with your progress of late? The discovery of the human, your return and most of all the boy. All these things have given the Elders, the Adita, great hope for survival.”

  Eve laid her hand on top of his, suppressing the urge to reach out and snap his neck. “Yes father and thank you. It has been a great comfort knowing I belong here, that I have a family. One I will do anything to protect.” These words couldn’t ring more true, but not in the context Agra understood them to be.

  “Your loyalty will comfort me in the months to come as we proceed with the harvest.” He walked her towards the door. “The Svan have begun to moving into the southern regions to gather more humans.”

  Eve hid her surprise. “Do we not have enough for the harvest?”

  “For the Elders and the Saciva, yes, but we need more and especially the young. The first children the Svan tested were filled with defects. We must find as many of the purest of their species, if we are to be ready by the ninth moon.”

  Eve chose her words carefully. “I thought we had time, several moons,” she said, controlling the suspicion, keeping any concern out of her voice and mind.

  “We do. We do.” He smiled at her. “Don’t you worry. I have everything under control. Now go prepare for your journey, while I explain to the Elders and the Saciva what their best interests are in this matter.”

  Eve returned her father’s smile. “Thank you father.” She bowed her head to him and exited his chambers.

  Once the door closed, Eve made haste to her room, and found Caleb anxiously waiting. Upon seeing her, he sprung from the bed and ran to her. “Is it true?”

  Eve grabbed him by the arm, her nails digging into his skin. “Silence,” she said and released him. The nail marks quickly vanished. Eve knew he’d felt no pain or fear for that matter and sometimes wished he did, for safety’s sake if nothing else.

  “Sorry mother,” Caleb chirped, undeterred by her anger, which he’d felt plenty of and was accustomed to. “I can’t help it. I try not to, but the voices come and I can’t stop them and then I’ve listened without meaning to.”

  “You’ll learn to control them,” she replied automatically.

  Caleb was unconcerned. He had more important things to tell her, but caution demanded attention first and foremost. Caleb hummed a tune and listened. Agra talking with the Elders and not paying attention to him at the moment. He proceeded, choosing his words with great care. “I saw a man in my dream last night,” he announced. “He’d fallen down and is sleeping.”

  “Is that right dear,” she replied as if she could care less about Celeb’s silly dreams. “We don’t have time to talk about dreams and make-believe. We leave soon.” She patted him on the head. “We can talk about your dreams later, right now you must prepare.”

  “Ok, but the man has been sleeping for many days. His friends couldn’t wake him up.”

  “Maybe he was very tired. I’m sure he’s fine.” She shook her head at him. “Now go to your room. I will come for you soon.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the warehouses.”

  “I want to come.”

  “No. And if you don’t do as I ask, you will not travel with me to Earth,” she threatened.

  This propelled Caleb out of the room and took his mind off of the warehouses, a subject she was constantly trying to protect him from knowing too much about. A task she was failing at, but could not worry over. This time Eve didn’t walk, but used Agra’s preferred method of travel and arrived at the warehouses in a split second.

  Back inside the warehouse, the woman was as she’d left her. Her heart beating steady and strong. Eve laid her hands on the woman’s chest and closed her eyes. From the tips of her fingers energy flowed into the woman’s body, through her veins, organs and finally into her brain. Eve proceeded in a precise order, knowing even the slightest misstep would kill the woman. Death was a matter of fact Eve wasn’t concerned over, but the loss of this human would be more than an inconvenience. Eve withdrew her hands and waited. After the first few minutes noticeable signs of improvement were evident. Color returned to her skin, making the corpse like appearance less prominent. Another few minutes passed and Eve removed the multitude of tubes inserted into the woman. She was now breathing on her own. The danger had passed. Eve’s plans were clicking along without interruption.

  Long before he made a sound, Eve knew Caleb was nearby. Suppressing her anger at being disobeyed, Eve continued to listen to the woman’s progress. Satisfied the process was proceeding as she expected and needed, Eve went to find her wayward son. Outside the warehouse she searched for Caleb. Not in the manner a human mother searched for a child by shouting out his name, rather Eve closed her eyes and searched the sounds and smells. When this turned up only the faintest hint of her child, she searched using her mind. Her brow furrowed upon finding him back in his room, sitting cherub like on the floor doing his lessons. Having a new appreciation for the human mothers she’d observed, Eve was not fooled, nor angered by Caleb’s act of innocence. To a certain level she respected the humans and was thankful for having witnessed their lives, their relationships and interactions. All of which had been her only preparation for motherhood.

  No longer in a hurry, Eve decided to walk back to the temple. The woman would not be ready to leave for a few hours, giving her time to rethink her plans. Half way up the path she stopped. An image of a man appeared. He stood facing away from her at the edge of a large body of water. The surface consisted of choppy waves frozen in place. The man turned from the water’s edge and walked towards her, passing through her and continuing down the path. Eve watched him go until his image vanished. Her brow creased in thought. How had she missed him? Tempted to follow, Eve shook her head, another time, another place, she thought, and continued up the path.

  7 Crossing the Strait

  The Bering Strait was over fifty miles wide at the narrowest point between Russian Cape Dezhnev and the US Cape Prince of Wales. Land temperatures remained below zero and the wind was relentless in trying to penetrate through the thickest layers of clothing in an effort to reach your bones.

  Kyle stood on the Russian side staring out across the sea, where the treacherous waters were a mass of frozen choppy waves, disappearing into a vast cloud of nothing. Despite having not a single clue or fact indicating land existed on the other side, his resolve had not weakened. Ada’s pleading and tears, although tough to bear, couldn’t change his mind either. Leaving behind his friends and adopted family was tough, but that was all in the past now. The task ahead was all that mattered. He walked back to the Mercedes, which sat idling with the heater on full blast. Inside he pulled out a wetsuit and began to undress, stopping to scan the landscape. His eyes came to rest on a single guard post, ready to give up its few remaining boards to the elements and topple over. “No one is out there,” he assured himself in a whisper and then smiled, think
ing he had the right to feel a little paranoid.

  With a bit of effort Kyle maneuver his body into the wetsuit. The material was designed for use by the military elite and capable of withstanding the coldest of conditions through the suit’s unique ability to generate heat from body movement. Kyle assumed those conditions included swimming in the Bering Strait. Records indicated the water temperature at this time of year should be in the thirty degree range. Based on the sheer magnitude of ice, Kyle surmised those numbers were far lower.

  The plan had been to swim to Big Diomede Island where a Russian weather station and border guard had been based. After months of no communications from the personnel stationed on the island, Kyle didn’t expect to find anyone hanging around to answer questions. From the station he would swim to Cape Prince of Wales, and again search for survivors. A small fishing village called Deadbear sat near the cape where he hoped to acquire transportation to take him to Colorado. If luck graced him this day, he might be able to walk to the other side.

  Grabbing the keys from the ignition, Kyle hid them under the floor mat, paused in his task, thinking the chances of the vehicle being stolen were remote. Overshadowing this fact was the expectation that he wouldn’t be returning and if someone did take the truck, they probably needed the vehicle more than he. With this in mind he placed the keys on the seat and jumped out, not bothering to lock the doors.

  At the water’s edge, Kyle took one last glance across the ice bound sea before rechecking that his compass was functioning, and his backpack was secure. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his headgear into place. “You got this man,” he said out loud and nodded in response to himself before stepping out onto the frozen Strait. True to the military’s boasts, the suit performed as intended, keeping the frigid temperatures from penetrating through to his body. If Kyle had had the luxury of observation, he would have thought to commend the military for a job well done. However, he was focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Despite what others called a lax lifestyle, he was in excellent shape. The benefits of good genes and youth, but this was no jog around the flat track. His full concentration was required.

  After two hours of walking and climbing, Kyle’s agility was being put to the test by the strong winds and by having to navigate the uneven terrain. Although thankful for not having to swim, the ice was no cakewalk. Every so often the ice shifted, threatening to throw him off balance. At one point it succeeded in doing just that and Kyle had to grab for the edge of an ice sheet to keep from falling into a hole. He hung there for several seconds before clawing his way up onto a flatter section. Every few feet he’d spot another opening in the ice, a hole into the abyss below. If he fell into one of those it wouldn’t be a ‘showstopper’, it would be a ‘game over’. Keeping this in mind, he picked his way over the ice using extreme caution.

  When he worried the rough terrain would never end, the surface changed from jagged to flat, with no transition to forewarn him. Flat ground was a gift horse whose mouth he would not look into. Kyle walked on, concentrating hard on the task at hand. After another thirty minutes, realizing he’d walked into a thick gray-white mist, he stopped to find his bearings. He was surrounded. Fog so thick he could barely see his feet, giving the allusion of walking on a cloud. He pushed on. A half an hour later he heard the sound of splashing waves ahead. He proceeded slow and easy. Soon he arrived at the edge, where ice turned to water. A wave splashed up in his face startling him. The time had come, the true test of his endurance was about to commence. Kyle removed his regular boots, replacing them with split toe flippers made of the same material as his body suit. He walked to the edge, took a deep breath and slid into the water.

  Knowing the international relay team took six days to swim the entire Strait gnawed at him a bit before he’d set out on this quest, but when doubt threatened to unravel his will, he only had to think about doing nothing. This thought alone vanquished the most daunting of his fears. The plan was go, or no other option. A ‘no go’ wasn’t on the table. He couldn’t explain this to Ada or Will or the many others who tried to talk him out of going. Sometimes a man had to man-up and do the necessary thing, right or wrong.

  As he swam his solitary swim, being tossed about like a rag doll at times, Kyle thought back to before the great white mass devoured the United States, back to the last time he had contact with his family. Lost in thought he hardly noticed the moment when the water ceased pulling him in every direction. Pausing to take in his surroundings, he looked around at the thick fog that enveloped him. The waters had turned calm and silent. An eerie calm that sent a shiver went down his spine. In his short time on Earth he’d lived a rather charmed life. Even after the mass cloud appeared his world had continued to be filled with good people who took care of him, even loved him like their own. He’d crossed paths with a few mean assholes, but never met anyone he considered evil. He’d often wondered if he would recognize evil were he to come face to face with the beast. He wondered no longer.

  Kyle was cognizant of the quiet, of how each stroke seemed to bounce off the white wall of mist and reverberate across the sea. Would they hear him coming? Did they exist? He kept moving, swimming faster, harder, cutting through the still waters like a torpedo. The only thing on Kyle’s mind was reaching that island. Every stroke he thought would be his last. When another four hours had passed, his foot hit a rock beneath the water’s surface causing him to almost jump out of the water. He stopped to catch his breath and calm his nerves. It was nothing, only a rock. A rock! Land was close. He waved his fist in the air with measured excitement and continued swimming, albeit at a slower pace, taking close to an hour before finding a spot to climb ashore.

  With wobbly arms Kyle hauled his fatigued body up on the rocky shore, his muscles protesting the further demand to perform. He crawled far enough to be clear of the water, before collapsing on the rocky beach, exhausted to the state of being numb. After several minutes, Kyle rolled over and opened his eyes. Up above the sky was a dull gray, to his right, sitting above the horizon, were three suns. Shading his eyes, he squinted and blinked several times, but the suns didn’t falter or change in number.

  Kyle struggled to a sitting position and then to his knees and finally to his feet. He faltered a bit, almost falling backwards, and leaned forward to gain momentum to walk. Not far from the shore was a crowd of buildings and one room shacks huddled together, some sat only feet from the water, while others were nestled into the steep embankment. No one came running to see who he was or if he was ok. The island, with its close to vertical slopes covered in snow and ice, reminded him of a ship floating out at sea. A ghost ship perhaps, commanded by a captain and crew from the netherworld.

  When he reached the first building, Kyle leaned on the door unable to lift his hand to knock. The door gave way, spilling Kyle into a small reception room of sorts. Plastic chairs, a desk, and a picture on the wall made up the modest room. He collapsed into the nearest chair. After several minutes he raised his head and looked about; his eyes came to rest on the picture.

  Painted on the canvas was a small unmanned fishing boat being tossed about on an angry sea. He stared at the picture not seeing the boat or the waves or wondering where the fisherman might be. Soon, though, his mind caught up and he noticed something odd about the picture, something that didn’t quite belong. The artist had splattered dark paint across the canvas. As his gaze traveled upward, he saw that the paint had been splattered on the wall and ceiling as well. Not able to find the logic in this, his numb mind worked hard to resolve what he was seeing. Several minutes passed before a complete thawing and his thoughts processed with more clarity. His mind suggested to him that maybe it wasn’t paint. He dropped his gaze to the floor beneath his feet where more paint...more-paint-on-the-floor. Not paint. Not paint at all.

  “Oh shit.” Kyle sprung from the chair and stumbled backwards out the door, yanking his headgear and taking deep, deep breaths of the cold air. Blood. He checked the steps where he stood, but the
y were clean. He sank down. Blood splatter, everywhere. Blood. The word repeated in his head, like a broken record not to be ignored. Kyle smacked his hands together and stood up. Bracing himself for the worst, he went around to the other buildings, only to find the same sights awaiting him. He searched a few of the closest shacks, this time finding bodies to associate with the blood. The bodies were twisted and frozen, some having the appearance of being ripped open and gutted. After checking inside three houses he quit opening doors. These were no longer homes, they were tombs. At the fourth house he sat outside on the steps and hung his head. Dead. They were all dead. Goddamn it, he swore and pounded his fist on his leg.

  Although his hopes had been dealt a huge blow, Kyle wasn’t giving up, not now, not ever. All he could think about was getting to Alaska. Besides, what else was he going to do? Swim back to Russia? No way. He would rest here, on this island of death, and head out in the morning. If the waters were calm all the way across he could reach land by nightfall.

  Having strengthened his resolve, Kyle put his mind on deciding where he should sleep. The houses were out of the question. After a quick inspection of all the buildings, Kyle decided on the first one he’d entered. Once he moved passed the reception area no signs of blood, and more important no gruesome remains, were found. In the back, behind the reception room, he found a small kitchen and an even smaller room with space enough for a twin bed. He turned on the water, letting it run while he inspected the pantry. When he returned with food in hand, to his amazement, and gratitude, hot water flowed from the tap. After further inspection he found the hot water tank under the sink ran on propane and discovered the range was propane fueled as well. A hot shower and hot meal made up for the cold bed.

  Later when the dark settled in outside, Kyle, dry and full of soup, settled under several layers of thick blankets. The quiet was eerie and disturbing, but being past the point of exhaustion Kyle fell asleep before he could over think each and every sound. Sometime in the night he stirred in his sleep and almost awoke when a piercing screech broke the silence of the night. The sound was primal in every sense of the word, but sleep reclaimed him before his mind’s sensors had time to process. He later dreamt of flying demons screeching through the night.