The Last Harvest

by Kim Liggett

  I unclench my fist long enough to push number five.

  56

  GREG UNLOCKS the cell, pushes the door open, and steps back.

  Lee’s standing there in his jumpsuit, grinning at me, like he’s been waiting for me.

  I don’t waste a single breath. I charge after him, pounding him into the ground. He doesn’t even try to fight me; goes down like a sack of grain. I haul back and punch him in the jaw so hard I hear it pop out of place. But still, he’s got that grin.

  “Do it, Clay. I’ve been waiting for you,” he grunts. “Thought you’d come for Jess a lot sooner.”

  In a burst of rage I head butt him. He falls back, stunned at first, and then starts laughing. “She was practically begging for it in the end.”

  Picking him up off the ground by his jumpsuit, I slam him against the wall. I start wailing on him with everything I have, a rage so hot and full of acid, I want to put my fist straight through his chest.

  “Blessed be the seed,” he says as he takes the blows.

  I punch him in the gut and he doubles over.

  He starts to sing. It sounds like a nursery rhyme. “The first to fall will pray, the second to fall has come to play, the third to fall will shiver and burn, the fourth to fall, a lesson to learn, the fifth to fall will eat his words, but six and seven will go to heaven, eight will be a grave mistake, the ninth will be for goodness’ sake, the final one to fall, the tenth will be the one to bind them all.”

  “How do you know that song?” I shake him. “That’s Noodle’s counting song. Have you done something to Noodle?”

  “I’m ready to eat my words.” He straightens up to face me. “Let me serve our lord.”

  I haul back to punch him again, my fist trembling, aching for contact. His face is raw and bloodied, but still, he manages a smile. His eyes—the irises have all but disappeared. They’re pure black now. And what I see in their reflection scares the shit out of me. Who’s the animal now?

  “Aren’t you going to stop me?” I pant as I look over my shoulder at Tilford.

  “You deserve this,” he says with a dark glint in his eyes. “Courtesy of Ian Neely.”

  “Neely?” I exhale as I let go of Lee. He collapses to the ground, a puddle of mangled flesh and broken bones.

  “Do it, Clay,” Lee whispers, blood streaming down the corner of his mouth.

  Lee wants me to kill him. Neely wants this, too.

  But why? If I do this, if I take his life, will I be one of them? Is that how they’ll finally pull me in?

  “Fuck you.” I spit on Lee. “I’ll let the good state of Oklahoma take care of you.”

  On my way out, I smear my bloody thumb across Tilford’s star badge, which is pinned upside down. The sign of the Devil. “I know you’re one of them. Tell Neely thanks, but no thanks. Better yet … I’ll tell him myself.”

  “Don’t leave me like this,” Wiggins screams. “You’re Cain and I’m Abel. Let me be the fifth. You have to finish it. Let me serve our lord.” His wail echoes down the hall.

  57

  I RACE down the stairs, a high ringing in my ears, the sound of my fist pounding Lee’s flesh, bones snapping, fluorescent lights pinging.

  As soon as I leave the building, the cold air hits my split knuckles, making me wince, but there’s still acid and hate coursing through my muscles.

  I start running. It’s like my body knows where I’m headed long before my brain can process it, but I’m heading straight for the Neelys’ house.

  I can’t let him take Noodle from me.

  “Noodle!” I scream as I barge into their house, tearing through rooms. There’s a grilled cheese on the kitchen table, cut into little triangles, just the way Noodle likes it. It’s still slightly warm in the center. They can’t be far.

  I start to head upstairs to check the bedrooms when the sirens begin to wail. I freeze in my tracks. This is the first time I’ve heard the tornado alarm in my entire life. It sounds alien going into my eardrums, making my heart beat double time. Could Midland be getting its first tornado since the land rush? And what does that mean?

  I know they set up a town shelter at the school, but some of the original houses have storm shelters. I go out back to look for a cellar hatch, and that’s when I notice how quiet everything is. Other than the mournful wail of the siren, there’s no cars, no kids playing or dogs barking. The air is completely still and humid, and there’s a sweetness. The wind chimes just hang there like broken bones. The dying leaves cling to the branches, unstirred. Everything feels suspended. The sky is the strangest color, green with swirls of peach. But the clouds circling Midland are the color of gunmetal … death.

  “Noodle!” I scream into the void, but the stillness seems to swallow it whole. It’s like every living thing has vanished from the earth. Maybe they know something I don’t. Maybe this is the end.

  I run back inside and grab a set of car keys dangling from a hook in the kitchen. I realize this is grand theft auto, but it’s an emergency. I have to find Noodle. I have to find anyone at this point so I can be sure all of this isn’t a dream.

  As I open the garage door, I let out a burst of nervous laughter when I see Mr. Neely’s bright-yellow Hummer. Dickmobile. Like father like son.

  I turn the engine, and Ted Nugent comes blasting through the stereo. I start stabbing at it with my finger to make it stop, but I only end up jamming the buttons. I roll down the windows to try and get away from it, but it’s no use. At least they’ll hear me coming.

  The shops on Main Street are deserted. I get out to peer in the window of Gus’s Shoe Shop. The door’s open, but there’s no one there. It’s like everyone just walked out of their homes … their stores … their lives … but where did they go?

  I see a black sedan racing down Main Street, turning on Route 17. I jump back in Neely’s car and take off after it. I’m going seventy and I still can’t catch up. I wonder if it’s state police.

  The farther I get out of town, the duller the tornado sirens become. I’m grateful for it. Now, if I can just figure out how to silence Ted Nugent, I might be able to think. As I’m fiddling with the stereo, I hear screeching tires, followed by a cloud of dust in the road up ahead.

  I slow down, hoping they didn’t get in an accident. As I approach, I’m trying to remember how to do CPR, but when the dust settles, I only find an abandoned car. I get out and track the skid marks in the road—must be twenty-five feet of burned rubber, but what made them slam on their brakes? And where the hell are they now? There’s a little peach on the license plate. Georgia. The inside of the car looks pristine, like it just came off the lot. I check the glove box. Registered to a Thomas Dixon from Atlanta. Why would he be way out here? We’re not anywhere near a major highway. Maybe he’s looking for shelter from the storm. A few wrong turns, maybe he panicked.

  I scan the surrounding fields. It’s just a bunch of overgrown grazing pastures, part of the Neely farm. Nothing around for miles.

  Getting back in Neely’s car, I drive ahead to see if I can spot anyone. Then I notice the other cars. It’s sporadic at first, until they’re lined up one after another on either side of Route 17. Some still have their doors wide open. Engines running. Some of the cars I recognize from town, but others are from as far away as New York City.

  I weave in and out of the vehicles as far as I can go, until a semi’s blocking the road. Abandoning Neely’s car, I cut through overgrown pastures, yelling out to anyone who might need help, but there’s nothing, not even a bug scrabbling over the dirt. The wind’s picked up now. It doesn’t come in fits and gales—it’s like Mother Nature’s expelling one long endless steady breath. It makes the tall grass sway and shiver, like that mental patient sitting under the tree at Oakmoor.

  It sends an icy chill over my skin.

  The sky lets out an ominous groan. I look up. All the clouds seem to be amassing over the dividing line between our farm and the Neely ranch. The breeding barn.

  And it dawns on me. Th
is is no ordinary storm. This is God and the Devil … a battle between good and evil … this is everything coming to a head.

  I pick up my pace. As the breeding barn comes into view, I see Miss Granger’s car out front. Two figures in long black dresses are dragging someone from the car.

  I wave my hands in the air. “Hey … hey there!”

  As I get closer, I see they’re not dresses, but robes. Of course … it’s the priests from All Saints, and they’re dragging Tyler Neely into the barn, his body contorted like a piece of plastic melting in the sun.

  Miss Granger emerges from the car, pulling a girl out with her.

  Ali’s shaking and crying. “Please don’t do this. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Wait,” I scream as I close the distance.

  “Clay … help me!” Ali says.

  The priests come out of the barn. Ali’s bucking and wailing like a pinned animal, but as soon as the priest with the reddish goatee lays his hand on her forehead, her body goes rigid, her eyes roll back in her head. The sound that escapes her twisted mouth is something straight out of a nightmare. A screeching wail of agony.

  It takes me aback.

  I watch as the priests drag Ali into the barn, but this isn’t Ali. I know that now.

  “Please don’t hurt her.” I try to go after them, but Miss Granger steps in front of me, blocking my path.

  “This is for the best,” she says.

  “What’s going on? There’s cars everywhere … from all over the place … just abandoned in the road.”

  “Probably storm chasers,” she says as she glances up at the menacing sky. “After all, this is a historic event. One hundred and twenty-seven years in the making.”

  “But where is everyone? Oh my God, Noodle!” I suddenly remember, looking back toward town.

  “She’s fine. She’s with the rest of the community at the school. She’ll be safe there.” Miss Granger takes my hands. “I heard what happened to Jess … about Lee.” She looks down at my swollen, bloody knuckles. “I’m so sorry, but soon this will all be over.”

  “It’s time,” one of the priests calls from the barn.

  “Let’s do this,” I say.

  “No, Clay.” She shakes her head. “You can’t stay for the exorcism.”

  “What are you talking about?” I stare at the barn door. “I can’t leave her.”

  “I don’t want you to remember her like this. Ali wouldn’t want you to remember her like this.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” I swallow hard. “Just wait out here … and do what?”

  “Pray.” She squeezes my shoulder before disappearing inside the barn and latching the door behind her.

  58

  I PACE the red earth in front of the barn, listening to the horror that must be happening inside—the bellowing of the priests, the holy water sizzling against skin, the screams of agony coming out of Tyler and Ali.

  I run around the barn, like I did on that night when I saw Ali emerge from the cow. I get glimpses, but the priests hover over them, their black robes engulfing the scene. I press my face against the splintery wood. Ali screams out in pain. I can’t stand this … not being able to do anything to help her.

  The sky groans and I wonder if Miss Granger’s right. I haven’t prayed since Dad died, but I’m willing to try if it will help Ali. I’ll do anything to make this stop.

  I tear myself away from the barn and go to the only place that makes sense.

  The wheat.

  The place where it all began. Where it will end.

  I keep walking until I can pretend their screams are just the wind whipping through the plains. A low grumbling thunders above me. As I look up at the sky, at the dark clouds amassing, I’m suddenly afraid for Ali’s soul.

  “Is this what you want?” I scream up at the heavens. “You want me on my knees?”

  I drop to the ground, my hands digging into the fertile soil, the very land my ancestors traded our souls for … their own flesh and blood. “For this?” I scream, hot tears streaming down my face. “You can’t let the Devil take her for this!”

  A bolt of lightning strikes over the breeding barn, making the hair on my entire body stand on end.

  “I hear you. I feel you,” I call up to God, my chin trembling, my body weak. “I’m sorry I turned my back on you after Dad died. I’m sorry I didn’t see. You’ve kept me strong, kept me safe. I’m asking for a second chance. I won’t waste it. I’ll make you proud … you’ll see. But I need your help right now. There’s a girl back there”—I glance toward the breeding barn shrouded in inky darkness—“a girl I can’t live without. Ali. I know you’ve been watching out for her, too. But I need you to take the Devil from her. I need her to walk out of that barn. I need her to come back to me. I can’t do this without her. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Give me this one thing and I’ll never doubt you again. I’ll marry her. Just please bring her back to me the way she was before. It might be my last chance. Our last chance.”

  I clench my eyes shut and whisper, “I plead the blood. I plead the blood.” I feel the bitter wind whipping across my face. I hear the groan of the breeding barn. The sky screaming in my ears. “I plead the blood. I plead the blood.” I say it over and over again until the screaming subsides. And when I open my eyes there’s a sliver of golden light trying to break through the clouds.

  And just like that, I know it’s God. He heard me. If that tiny speck of light can break through the darkness, it might be enough to save her. All of us.

  I run my palms over my head, lacing my hands around the back of my neck, and stare up at the sky, at the golden light overpowering the darkness.

  I let out a joyous burst of laughter.

  That glorious Oklahoma sky—it’ll make a believer out of anybody. Even me.

  The light spills over the wheat, making it look like fields of gold.

  I start running back toward the breeding barn, my heart pounding with anticipation.

  The barn door creaks open and I stop. I don’t even dare take a breath.

  Ali walks out. She looks different. Like a thousand pounds have been lifted from her shoulders.

  I know that dress—cream colored with tiny pink rosebuds on it. It’s the same dress she wore on the night she came to my room … the night I kissed her and she ran out of my house crying.

  “Clay.” Ali runs toward me, flinging her arms around my neck. “Where have you been? I’m so happy to see you.”

  I tense up at first, but the feel of her in my arms, the sound of her voice … this is Ali. The real Ali. “I’ve been waiting for you,” I say as I hold her tight. “Thank you,” I mouth to Miss Granger, who’s standing in the doorway of the breeding barn, tears streaming down her face. Whatever happened in there, it clearly took a toll on her.

  I pry Ali’s arms loose. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walk over to Miss Granger. “Is Tyler—”

  “He didn’t make it.” She wipes her sleeve across her face.

  “What happened?”

  “He couldn’t be saved,” she says as she closes the door to the barn behind her. “But Ali’s clean. She’s free of this darkness.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “No.” She gently takes my hand. “Thanks to you. I think it’s your love for Ali that saved her. That pulled her through.”

  “What happens now?” I ask, trying not to imagine the horror of what’s inside that barn.

  “Take Ali to your house. Give me a few hours to clean up here. We’ll come for you at sundown. Everything will be clear.”

  I start to turn, when she reaches for my arm.

  “And, Clay. Remember your promise. Love is a beautiful thing. You’ve seen how precious life is. How precious time is. Don’t let it pass you by. You don’t have to be alone anymore. She’s going to need you, like you were before. God is giving you a second chance. Don’t waste it.”

  I look back at Ali, the halo of light caressing her skin as she twirls
a stem of wheat. Her hazel eyes are so warm and bright. She’s wearing the peaceful smile I’ve always known. A ripple of wind rushes over her, making her skirt flutter against the top of her knees. She’s more beautiful than ever.

  “I promise,” I whisper.

  I take a deep breath and walk toward Ali. She reaches out for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. I feel a rush of euphoria, a calmness pass over my soul. We walk hand in hand away from the breeding barn and into the wheat.

  Into our future.

  59

  I TAKE Ali upstairs to my room; it’s the one place that doesn’t remind me of death. Noticing the trash bags covering the windows, and how wrong it looks, I hurry to take them down, which floods the room in hazy light.

  Ali sits on the edge of my bed, brushing her hair back from her shoulder. The freckles have faded so much over the past year that you can hardly see them anymore.

  I sit next to her. Being with her like this—in my room, the same dress, the scent of her hair—it’s like déjà vu, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes, a depth that hadn’t been there before, which tells me, on some level, she remembers everything. I can hardly stand being this close to her and not touching her. The agony, the waiting, everything we’ve been through.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” I swallow hard. “Something I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

  “Clay—”

  “I love you, Ali,” I blurt. “And I want to marry you.”

  She takes in a short inhalation of breath. “Yes.” She smiles, her warm hazel eyes filling with tears. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that? Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

  When I reach over to wipe the tears from her cheeks, she leans in and kisses me. Her lips are soft, warm and wet. I keep waiting for her to pull away, but she seems to crave the closeness, the intimacy as much as I do. She runs her fingers over the back of my head, my back, before moving on to the buttons of my shirt.

  I hold on to her hands, pressing my forehead against hers. We stare at each other, breathing in time.