The Harvest (Book 2): Eve of Man

by Anne Ferretti

  The driver’s door opened and the driver stepped out.

  “A woman,” Madison noted.

  “How do you know?” Ed stared at the person, wrapped head to toe in winter gear, revealing nothing.

  “The feet.” Madison pointed. “Too small for a man.”

  Ed followed her finger to the figure’s boot clad feet and nodded, although he couldn’t say one way or the other if the feet were too small for a man, he knew Madison had good instincts about people, so her assessment was good enough for him.

  The woman walked up to the door and pounded on it with a gloved fist. After a moment she looked up at the hidden camera and waved. A wave saying come out, not hello or is anyone in there. This person knew people were waiting inside and knew those people were watching.

  “What the...” Ed muttered.

  “Is everyone here?” Zack asked.

  “Everyone,” Madison replied after a quick count.

  “Then who the hell is that?” Zack asked, but was gone from the room before anyone had time to think, let alone answer.

  The group watched in silence. Finding survivors was as exhilarating as it was frightening. As the current status of the group stood, they had peace and harmony, but harmony amongst men was a precarious state. One bad seed could turn their haven upside down. And though no one would say so out loud, Austin’s illness weighed heavy on everyone’s sense of security.

  Outside the woman waited. She no longer waved at the camera which Madison thought odd, like she knew Zack was on his way. Madison watched her, but she stood so absolutely still she appeared frozen in place. The passenger chose that precise moment to exit the vehicle drawing everyone’s attention in that direction. By the size, Madison guessed it was another woman. Following behind her a smaller figure jumped out, one they hadn’t been able to see.

  “Oh shit. That’s a kid,” Ed said.

  “I didn’t think any were left,” Luke commented and instantly regretted saying it out loud. “Sorry Ed. I didn’t...I’m sorry.”

  “It’s ok,” Ed replied, although Luke’s words stung like hell, he knew the intention wasn’t malicious. Besides, Ed was a bit in shock himself. No children survivors had been found, not that they were aware, and other than the nightmare in Lamar, they hadn’t seen bodies of children dropped from the sky or found elsewhere. So having one show up now was pretty astounding.

  ***

  The barn door slid open and Zack stepped out rifle in position. “Can I help you?” Zack chose his words carefully, all the while scanning the horizon for an ambush. No one came out of the woods.

  “I’m looking for Austin Reynolds,” the woman responded in a soft voice he almost couldn’t hear. In the bunker’s infirmary Austin stirred and German’s hair rose on his back.

  The woman’s response caught Zack’s full attention, as well as those listening inside. “I don’t know an Austin Reynolds.”

  “Please Mr. Londergan.”

  Zack lowered his rifle. “How do you know my name?”

  “Eve told me I could find my husband here. Here in your bunker.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Yes. I’m Roxanne, his wife.”

  “His wife. I thought you were...he said you were...”

  “Dead. Yes, I know. Eve had no choice. Her father made her lie to him.”

  “Can I see your face?” Zack was beyond baffled, but hadn’t completely lost his senses.

  The woman removed her headgear to reveal her face.

  “Oh shit,” Zack said upon seeing it was Roxanne or at least she looked like the woman in Roth’s pictures.

  Inside the command center everyone, especially Madison who was intimately familiar with Roxanne’s face, watched in awe. The entire Roxanne business had been off limits. No one dared ask or even talk about her amongst themselves. Yet here she was at the bunker in the flesh. So focused on her being alive, they had all forgotten about the other woman and the child who stood waiting by the vehicle.

  Zack ushered the women and child into the barn. Roxanne waited for the child to come before she followed Zack inside. The doors slid closed.

  Inside the command center, they all turned their attention to the screens showing the inside of the barn. They watched until the group descended into the floor.

  “I thought she was dead,” Colin commented.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ed replied.

  Luke shrugged his shoulders in confusion. He’d been in the temple and heard Agra say Roxanne was dead. Austin had said she was dead. Luke didn’t like this. Those blood sucking aliens couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t trust them. They had no way of knowing what their agenda might be, but Luke was certain their plans wouldn’t favor the human race. The bloodsuckers needed Austin and what better way to do so than by using his wife as bait. If she was his wife at all.

  Within a few minutes Zack called on the radio asking everyone to meet him in the recreation room. That he didn’t bring the visitors to the command center told Luke Zack had doubts as well. This comforted Luke to some extent knowing he wasn’t the only one suspicious. A glimpse of Madison’s furrowed brow told him she wasn’t convinced either.

  Inside the recreation room, Zack helped the second woman remove her coat while Roxanne knelt at the child’s side doing the same. She did not look up when the bunker’s residents piled into the room. Charlie and Colin were the first through the door. Jeremy helped Anne, who was ready to give birth to twins any day now. Grace, the other pregnant girl from Roth’s program, followed them in. Zoe, the youngest at thirteen, came in with sisters Sue and Jane. Luke followed behind with Barbara. They stood back allowing the new comers space, trying not to stare and make them uncomfortable. Roxanne seemed very much at ease, as did the boy. Madison entered, followed by Ed, and at the precise moment when Roxanne turned the boy around.

  Madison’s jaw dropped open. She’d know those eyes anywhere. “His son,” she whispered, but how was that possible? Roxanne looked up, meeting Madison’s astounded gaze with one that was slightly less than cool. Madison dropped her eyes to Roxanne’s neck. Her mole was there as it should be.

  Ed had stopped behind everyone and couldn’t see the two women or the boy. The group moved forward to introduce themselves and Ed moved with the flow. When Luke stepped to the side to allow Ed passage the world suddenly floated away from him. All sounds ceased and he felt himself falling. From far away a familiar voice called his name. Time slowed to a halt and then, like a speeding train, rushed back crashing into him at full speed.

  The second woman, a pretty blond with bright green eyes, walked towards him. “Edward?”

  Ed found his voice. “Jenny? Jenny. It’s you. It’s really you.” And with that Ed’s legs faltered beneath him. Luke was standing close enough to catch him before he hit the floor.

  8 Fur Elise

  As the bunker residents were having their happy and strange reunions, Kyle was recuperating in Deadbear, Alaska. Two days of rest and he was back to feeling like himself. The aches had diminished for the most part. Better than that, no midnight visitors or dreams of screeching monsters. If not for seeing the footprint, he might have convinced himself it was all imagined.

  Although the town gave every indication of being uninhabited, Kyle planned to look around before leaving. He would need supplies for the trip, but had reservations on what he might be able to find. First thing had to be clothing. Still in his special suit, Kyle walked down the vacant ice covered street to Kwiki Pete’s gas station. A sign above the door read, ‘Get it now, cuz tomorrow it’ll be gone.’ Another sign announced ‘All your camo needs are were right inside’. Camo was good enough for Kyle.

  He grabbed the handle of the door and paused. Someone had taped an obituary clipping to the inside of the window. The newspaper was yellow and cracked and the writing difficult to read. However, someone had used red ink to scrawl R.I.P. D. Reynolds across the bottom in big letters. All around this were the faded names and initials of the bereaved. The d
ate of Mr. Reynolds death was some eighteen years ago. Old D. Reynolds must have been a popular man here in Deadbear, Kyle mused. Or Kwiki Pete was too lazy to remove the newspaper.

  Inside the gas station, Kyle found the promised camo wear. Pants, shirts, socks, boxers, and more were available in medium, large and extra, extra large. A few children sized garments hung on the rack, but not many. Kyle couldn’t imagine living in Deadbear as an adult, let alone growing up there as a child. What a nightmare, he thought with a shudder.

  After grabbing two pairs of everything in size large, Kyle added four pairs of socks and a pair of boots one size too big. He threw in a bright green and red striped scarf and hat set. This was better than the table cloth he currently wore, which smelled like old bacon fat and cigarette smoke. Beggars had to take what was left behind, and he wasn’t complaining. He laid these items on the counter and went back through the station scavenging for anything else deemed useful.

  In the end, he had a small grocery cart containing the clothing, two bags of canned food, a bag with Tylenol, aspirin and various other medications, as well as a bag filled with several frozen bottles of water and Gatorade. Satisfied these provisions would get him through the next couple of days, Kyle returned to the diner with his goods.

  Once back inside Terry’s Wilderness Room, Kyle heated a can of soup on the stove and spread out a map on the counter. He ate the soup straight from the can while looking over the map. The plan was to go across the Norton Sound to Emmonak, a one hundred twenty mile trek and then head to Anchorage, another five hundred miles as the crow flies. He fished a marker from the grocery cart and traced his route to Anchorage and then on down to Colorado. The task provided him comfort and something to do, but wasn’t necessary. He’d studied the maps so many times over the past year, the route was imprinted in his memory.

  Wearing his new camo over his wetsuit, Kyle needed to find heavier clothing. The wetsuit wasn’t made for permanent wear. His stomach tightened at what he must do, but he had no other choice for now. The town didn’t offer a shopping strip where you could get your nails done, cash in the title to your car, grab a foot long sandwich and shop at the Big & Tall. The gas station was it, and the only parka available had been two sizes too small. He hoped his search would turn up what he needed and fast.

  Bundled to the best of his ability, with the hat and scarf secured tightly around his head, Kyle headed back up the street to the residential part of town. He found a handful of small homes that were more like shacks, and he marveled they’d survived this long in an upright position. The first in the row seemed the ideal place to start his search.

  Two broken wooden steps lead to a worn out front door. The numbers eight zero hung lopsided from rusted nails. Kyle knocked on the door. He waited a few seconds before trying the handle. At first it stuck and he couldn’t help feeling relieved. He gave another hard twist and the latch retracted. Pushing the door open, Kyle stood at the bottom of the broken steps staring into the house. The door opened into a small living room where he could see an old brown and blue plaid recliner and a metal TV stand. Past the chair was a doorway leading to what he assumed was the kitchen. No sounds came from the house. No bodies were visible from where he stood.

  Taking a deep breath Kyle pulled himself up over the steps and into the house. He looked around hoping to get lucky, but knowing he wasn’t going to find what he needed right inside the doorway, in the safe zone. Not going to be that easy junior. He walked through the stranger’s house, eyeballing their personal belongings. On the other side of the kitchen he found a bathroom and beyond that two small bedrooms.

  On the wall of the first bedroom was a poster sized picture of Thor above a twin bed. The comforter matched the poster. The bed was empty. Kyle moved on to the next room where a queen bed took up most of the space. On the bed was a mangled pile of quilts and sheets. Above the bed’s head board someone had splattered dark paint. Kyle stared at the splatter, similar to that in the boat picture.

  Not paint, you idiot.

  Kyle’s eyes drifted back to the pile of blankets. The light in the room was poor, but provided enough illumination for him to see blood stains on the bed and floor. Not knowing why he felt compelled to walk into the room when his body was screaming for him to turn around, to leave, to not look any closer, he stepped closer to the bed.

  Of course there’s a body under all those blankets you fool, but you don’t need to see it. He tried to reason himself out of the room, but was held in place by the magnetic draw of the gruesome. The appeal of the morbid that took control of a person’s will, making them want to see things they knew deep down they’d regret seeing. Things that stuck with you for a long time and after having had time to fester, they came back to you in much grander fashion than when seeing those things the first time had presented. Reason never stood a chance against the lure of the fascinating, no matter how evil. He had to see if this was as bad as the people on the island or if maybe those gory details had been conjured up by his exhausted overworked brain. Yes, he had to know, had to see, for sanity’s sake, that was all.

  Kyle reached out grasping the edge of the blanket and pulled it back slow. The quilt caught and held. Kyle gave it a quick yank, but it wouldn’t come free. He swore under his breath and tugged again, this time with more force. The quilt, along with the corpse attached to it flew off the bed knocking a startled Kyle backward onto the floor.

  “Oh shit. Oh shit.” He pushed the body off his legs and scooted back against the wall.

  The deceased lay partially exposed with the pile of bedding tangled around its lower body. The face was mangled beyond recognition, but Kyle gathered by the hair and clothing it was a woman. Or had been before someone or something decided to shred her face and gut her like a pig. Through blood matted hair, an empty eye socket looked out at him. Why would someone take her eyes?

  “Yes Kyle, why on God’s Earth would someone take my eyes.” the corpse asked. “Have you seen my bedroom slippers dear?”

  Kyle scrambled over to the doorway, keeping an eye on Mrs. Mangled, waiting for her to rise up, to lunge after him, but she didn’t. He paused in the doorway, his heart beating like an eight o eight drum. He wondered about a Mr. Mangled and where Mangled Junior might be. Were they going to want to chat with him as well?

  Kyle stumbled from the house, tripping down the steps and out into the middle of the street. What on earth had he been thinking when he decided to do this? Forget navigating the unforgiving wilderness of Alaska, he couldn’t even navigate this small deserted town. He leaned over at the waist and stared at the boots on his feet. Not his boots, but the gas station’s boots. Not his clothes, not even his boxers. All around him silence and death screamed at him, gnawed at his confidence, wore down his will.

  Above the noise in his head an unexpected sound floated along in the brisk wind. Kyle straightened up, and listened. Again he heard it. The distinct sound of music. He pulled back the scarf, exposing his ear, and cocked his head in the direction of the noise. Soon he heard it again, loud and clear, the plinking of a piano. Kyle walked down the street towards the plinks. The closer he drew, the clearer the sounds became. Whoever was playing, was pretty good. He recognized the tune as something classical, but beyond that observation hadn’t a clue. Beethoven was never his thing.

  Kyle paused in front of a small blue house with white lace curtains, a red door and steps all in one piece. The music was definitely coming from inside. A piano player could be a psychotic killer, he supposed, after walking up to the door and knocking. The player, or psycho killer, stopped playing. The last note hung in the air as if it too listened. Kyle waited, but no one came. He knocked again.

  “Hello.”

  The piano player killer did not answer.

  He tried the handle. Locked.

  “Hello,” he repeated a bit louder and knocked on the door again. Determined to find the source of the music, Kyle twisted harder on the door handle and banged on the door. “Come on I know you’re
in there.”

  “Hands in the air mister,” a girl’s voice demanded from behind him.

  Kyle started, stumbled and fell off the stoop landing on his hip. He groaned and rolled over. “Oh shit,” he said to the end of a double barrel shotgun. Behind the gun, with her finger on the trigger, was a young girl. She wore a purple dress over green tights. Her feet were tucked into florescent purple galoshes and her hair was in two long braids under a pink knitted wool cap. Despite the weapon, he thought she appeared harmless and, at least for now, he felt certain she was not a psycho killer.

  “Hands up,” she demanded.

  Kyle held his hands in the air. “Now what?’

  “You one of them?”

  “One of them what?”

  “One of them aliens?”

  “No, not an alien. I’m an American. My name’s Kyle Bosch.” Kyle lowered one hand.

  “I said hands up mister. I’ll shoot you. I swear I will,” she said, making her point by shoving the gun closer to Kyle’s face.

  “Please don’t do that. I’m already having a bad day.”

  The girl stood her ground, but Kyle could see she was thinking things over, sizing him up, weighing her options, or chances. She lowered the gun.

  “I’m gonna lower my hands ok?” He moved slow keeping an eye on her trigger finger.

  The girl nodded, taking a step back and raising the gun barrel a couple of inches. Her eyes remained cagey, her posture on edge. The weapon was almost as tall as she, but she handled the weight with ease.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “McKenna.”

  “Just McKenna?”

  She nodded.

  “Was that you playing the piano?”

  She nodded again. “It’ll be dark soon.” And with that she turned and disappeared around the side of the house.

  Kyle jumped up and followed, but when he rounded the corner she was nowhere in sight. “McKenna.”

  Her head popped out from a hole in the siding. “This way.” She pushed the siding over revealing a passage way.