The Harvest

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  Harmony craned over to look at Willow. The girl was obviously lost in her own world, whatever that could possibly be. She was bringing things up on the Net and was completely engrossed in her work, typing intently, scrolling, and searching for God knew what . . .

  Harmony shrugged and looked at Cordelia. “Uh, she’s doing something else.”

  Cordelia glared. Sure enough, the nerd girl was busy at the next terminal, her forehead creased in total concentration. Cordelia dismissed her with a sneer and went back to holding court.

  “Okay,” she said to Harmony, trying half-heartedly to focus on their assignment. “And then ‘Pattern Run,’ right? Or ‘Go To End.’ That’s it.”

  Harmony looked completely lost. “Maybe . . . I think . . .”

  “Well, what does the book say?” Cordelia was practically out of patience. As Harmony looked up the procedure, Cordelia tried once more to interest her in some gossip. “So anyway,” she went on, “I come out of the bathroom and she comes running at me with a stick, screaming, ‘I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you!’ I swear.”

  “Who?” Jared asked. He was one of the cutest guys in class, and he leaned eagerly from his desk now to listen.

  With smug satisfaction Cordelia realized she’d finally hooked an audience.

  “Buffy,” she told him.

  “The new girl,” Harmony echoed.

  Jared looked puzzled. “What’s her deal?”

  “She’s crazed!” Cordelia said.

  “Did you hear about her old school?” Harmony asked conspiratorily. “Booted.”

  “I exhibit no surprise,” Cordelia declared.

  Jared leaned closer. “Why was she kicked out?”

  “ ’Cause she’s a psycholoony,” Cordelia said.

  “No, she’s not.”

  The voice was totally unexpected. It spoke out firmly and calmly, and the other three turned to look.

  Willow sat staring at them. Cordelia stared back. No one—no one—ever contradicted Cordelia, and it took an endless moment for the reality of the situation to actually sink in.

  “What?” Cordelia leveled her with an icy gaze.

  “She’s not a psycho,” Willow said. “You don’t even know her.”

  Cordelia’s voice rose indignantly. “Excuse me? Who gave you permission to exist? Do I horn in on your private discussions? No. Why? Because you’re boring.”

  Hurt flashed in Willow’s eyes. She lowered them quickly, then stood and gathered some pages that had come up on the printer. Cordelia and the others turned back to their projects.

  “There.” Harmony sounded relieved. “I think the program’s done.”

  Cordelia nodded. “Finally the nightmare ends. Now how do we save it?”

  Willow was just going out the door. She glanced back and said, “Deliver.”

  “Deliver.” Cordelia stared at the screen. “Where is that—oh!”

  She spotted the key marked DEL. She tapped it smartly with one finger.

  There was a long pause.

  Cordelia and Harmony kept their eyes upon the computer screen. They watched as their program faded, then melted away . . . while their own smiles melted into utter bewilderment.

  CHAPTER 17

  “They’re close,” Buffy said.

  They’d been walking quite a while without speaking. Tunnel after tunnel melted into nothingness behind them, and their uneasiness continued to grow. There was no comfortable banter between them now. The air was heavy, thick with a dark, dangerous expectancy, and Buffy frowned as she scanned the blackness with worried eyes.

  “How can you tell?” Xander asked nervously.

  “No more rats.”

  It wasn’t exactly the information he wanted to hear, but Xander said nothing. They passed through several more tunnels before he spoke again.

  “Over there.” He stopped, pointing. “What’s that?”

  Ahead of them was a small, gloomy side chamber. They could just barely make out the outline of a doorway, but past that, nothing.

  After a quick glance behind them, the two walked closer. Xander pulled out his flashlight and played it slowly over the entrance.

  The light shone faintly just beyond the opening. Over the motionless shape of a body, lying facedown on the ground.

  Xander drew a quick, sudden breath. “Jesse!”

  “Oh, no . . .” Buffy murmured.

  She started forward as Xander kept the light focused on her. Reaching Jesse, she held out her arms to help him.

  Jesse leaped at her without warning, a heavy pipe brandished in his fist. As he prepared to bring it down on her head, Xander’s voice rang out.

  “Jesse!”

  Jesse stopped, amazed. “Xander?”

  With a look of sheer relief, Jesse dropped his weapon. He walked slowly toward his friend, meeting Xander’s hug with one of his own. After a moment, Xander pulled away, holding Jesse at arm’s length, looking him over.

  “Jesse, man, are you okay?”

  “I’m not okay on an epic scale.” Jesse made a frail attempt at humor. “We gotta get out of here!”

  He pointed to his leg. A heavy chain held him fast to a metal ring in the wall.

  “It’s cool!” Xander assured him. “Buffy’s a superhero!”

  At the mention of her name, the superhero frowned and ran one hand along Jesse’s restraints.

  “Hold on,” she said grimly.

  Taking the pipe he’d dropped, Buffy smashed the lock on the shackles. The sound of it reverberated back and back through the labyrinth of tunnels, and Xander cringed, fixing her with a doubtful stare.

  “You think anybody heard that?” he murmured.

  From the corner of her eye Buffy thought she saw something moving just outside the chamber door . . . several black indistinct shapes shifting within the shadows.

  She motioned the others to follow her out.

  “They knew you were gonna come,” Jesse told her anxiously. “They said that I—I was the bait . . .”

  “Oh, now you tell us,” Xander grumbled.

  “I’ve seen their leader,” Jesse went on. He didn’t have to elaborate; as Buffy and Xander watched him, the look of sheer horror in his eyes said all there was to say.

  Quickly Buffy led the way back through the tunnel. Then without warning, she froze in her tracks.

  Xander and Jesse could see them now, too. The deep, murky, shadowy things moving at the other end of the passageway . . .

  “Oops,” Buffy said.

  Jesse’s voice quivered with fear. “Oh, no, no . . .”

  “Do you know another way out?”

  Jesse threw her a desperate look. “I don’t, uh, maybe?”

  “Come on,” Xander ordered.

  Turning, the three of them hurried in the opposite direction. They began to run, and as they came to a junction of several tunnels, they chose one and headed inside. They didn’t expect to see the eyes there ahead of them, gleaming in the darkness—they didn’t expect the whispered sounds of laughter. In rising panic they swung back again, until they reached yet another intersection.

  “Wait, wait,” Jesse paused breathlessly. “They brought me through here! There should be a way up. I hope.”

  No one stopped to argue—they simply ran.

  A moment later they found themselves in a small, murky chamber. Too late, they saw the vampires closing slowly in behind them—too late, they realized there was no other way out. In mounting horror, Buffy and Xander looked around for an escape, but there was nowhere to go.

  Buffy raced back to the doorway. She could hear the vampires stalking closer and closer, and she glanced frantically at her friends. “I don’t think this is the way out!”

  “We can’t fight our way back through those things,” Xander’s voice was shaking as much as her own. “What do we do?”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Jesse said.

  He was standing right behind Xander.

  But as the other two turned to look at him, he wasn’t
Jesse anymore.

  His face was repulsive and twisted, an inhuman face, an unholy face. His eyes were cold and passionless, and as he smiled at them, his pointed teeth gleamed through the darkness.

  Buffy and Xander were too shocked to answer. As they stared at him helplessly, Jesse’s smile widened.

  “You can die.”

  CHAPTER 18

  In painfully slow motion, Xander began backing away from Jesse, while Buffy’s mind raced, trying to think what to do. As she glanced at Jesse, then back again to the doorway, she could hear the vampires closing in on them, could see their shadows slithering along the outside walls.

  “Jesse . . .” Xander tried to appeal to him. “Man, I’m sorry . . .”

  Jesse regarded him with a triumphant sneer. “Sorry? I feel good, Xander. I feel strong.”

  Even as they talked, Buffy was grabbing at the door, trying desperately to shut it—but the thick metal had rusted badly, jamming it open.

  “I’m connected, man,” Jesse slowly advanced on Xander. “To everything. I can hear the worms in the earth.”

  Xander managed a weak nod. “Well, that’s a plus.”

  “I know what the Master wants. I’ll serve his purpose. That means you die. And I feed.”

  “Xander!” Buffy shouted. “The cross!”

  Xander didn’t hesitate. Gripping it tightly, he thrust the cross in front of Jesse’s face. Jesse stopped in his tracks. His ugly smile began to fade.

  With all her strength, Buffy pushed against the door. At last she could feel it giving way beneath her, ever so slightly—but she could also hear the vampires, their measured footfalls, their muffled laughter along the passageway. They were practically at the entrance now, and in the flickering shadows she caught quick glimpses of their fiendish grins. They were certain of their victory. It was only a matter of seconds.

  “Jesse.” Xander tried again. “Man, we’re buds. Can’t you remember?”

  “You’re like a shadow to me now,” Jesse snarled.

  Xander moved toward him, cross in hand. “Then get out of my face!”

  Jesse was furious. He stumbled backward as Xander forced him toward the doorway.

  With a last-ditch effort, Buffy heaved at the door. She could see the vampires massed together in the corridor. Getting nearer . . . nearer . . .

  Jesse lashed out, knocking the cross from Xander’s grasp. He grinned victoriously—but only for an instant. Without warning Buffy grabbed him from behind and hurled him out of the room, knocking vampires over like so many bowling pins. Xander stood staring in disbelief.

  “Help me!” Buffy cried.

  Recovering himself, Xander rushed to her aid. The two of them wedged their backs against the door, straining for all they were worth. At last there was a slow groan of loosening metal—and then—blessedly—the door slammed shut.

  The arm shot in without warning.

  Groping and grasping for their faces, trying to pull them out.

  Buffy jerked the door open slightly, then slammed it again till the arm withdrew. This time she managed to bolt the door, and as she did so, she turned to look at Xander.

  He was as breathless as she was. Still stunned over what had happened to Jesse. “I can’t believe it . . . we were too late.”

  A resounding thud shuddered the door behind them. The vampires were trying to break it down.

  “We need to get out of here,” Buffy said grimly.

  “There is no out of here!”

  Another thud shook the door to its very frame. Horrified, Buffy could see it beginning to buckle on its hinges. She glanced around, mind working swiftly. There were odds and ends of assorted junk lying about the room, and she started picking them up, flinging them away, searching for some other route of escape.

  Xander was also scanning the area. As his eyes darted quickly over the walls, he suddenly spied something high up in the shadows. It looked like an air vent. Just a hint of grating behind a metal sheet, practically obscured by the darkness.

  “What’s that?” he asked, getting Buffy’s attention.

  Buffy looked, too. She threw down a box she was holding, then used it as a footstool to try and reach the vent. She peeled away the sheet of metal, revealing the grate behind it. Her heart gave a hopeful leap.

  It was indeed an air vent.

  And it was big enough to climb through.

  Using her bare hands, Buffy tried to pry open the grate. She tried to shut out the sounds of the vampires behind them, the thudding and pounding, the screech of breaking hinges . . .

  Xander glanced worriedly from Buffy to the door.

  It was off its hinges now, he could see—just enough for a vampire to put his fingers through, just enough for a vampire to get a really good grip—

  Buffy ripped the grating loose and flung it aside.

  “Come on!” she shouted.

  A vampire shot out of the air vent. Its rotting arm came straight at her, and the scaly fingers closed around her head.

  Behind them, the door burst wider. A vampire’s face squeezed through, grinning at them in smug triumph.

  Buffy yanked the vampire out of the vent and hurled him to the floor. She jumped down on top of the creature, pinning him, and yelled at Xander, “Go!”

  Xander didn’t argue. He raced past her and climbed up on the box just as Buffy sank a stake into the vampire’s back. Fumbling the flashlight, Xander aimed it into the vent.

  Empty. The vent seemed clear, at least for now.

  With one last look at Buffy, Xander crawled inside the vent and began worming his way toward safety.

  In the distance, he could hear a muffled crash as the door broke down at last. He could hear the vampires piling into the room.

  At the last possible second, Buffy jumped up, clawing at the wall.

  Then she pulled herself into the air vent and hurried after Xander, with the vampires close behind.

  Crawling on all fours in the darkness, Buffy and Xander were aware of the creatures following, squeezing their rotting bodies one by one into the narrow air vent, keeping close on their trail.

  They had no idea how far they’d gone, but suddenly the tunnel opened into a much wider space, and the two of them spotted a ladder leading up. High above them, the faintest glow of sunshine showed through a grating at the top.

  Xander glanced over his shoulder at Buffy. “Up?”

  “UP!”

  He started climbing, Buffy right behind him. Reaching the top, he opened the grating, then hoisted himself out onto the deserted street. He turned at once to help Buffy. His hand closed tightly around hers, and he began pulling her free.

  She’d almost cleared the opening when something grabbed her. She felt the scaly, pointed fingers clamp around her ankle as the vampire tried to drag her back into the hole.

  Instinctively, Buffy strained upward. With Xander’s arms tight around her, she pulled harder, forcing the hand into the afternoon sunlight. The fingers began to smoke, and there was a horrible stench of burning flesh. After an agonizing shriek, the hand twisted back into the darkness and Buffy rolled out, slamming the grate shut.

  She lay on the ground beside Xander.

  Neither of them spoke and neither of them moved.

  They only lay there, side by side, stunned and shaken, trying to catch their breath.

  CHAPTER 19

  The Master rose slowly and silently from his chair.

  His face was grim and his eyes were dangerously hard.

  Several vampires stood uneasily before him and he took his time with them, toying with their fear, allowing his pitiless gaze to linger upon each one in turn.

  “She escaped,” the Master spoke at last. “She walks free when I should be drinking her heart’s blood right now. Careless.”

  The vampire called Colin at last found the courage to speak. “Master, we had her trapped,” he tried to explain, but the Master stopped him with a glance.

  “Are you going to make excuses?” the Master hissed. “You
are all weak. It’s been too long since you faced a Slayer.” He considered a moment, then added, “But it’s no matter to me. She’ll not stop the Harvest. It just means there will be someone worth killing when I reach the surface.”

  He took a step closer to Colin. He leaned down into Colin’s face.

  “Is Luke ready?” the Master asked.

  Colin nodded. “He waits.”

  The Master seemed pleased at this. He gestured vaguely to another vampire who kept his head lowered.

  “It’s time,” the Master said. “Bring him to me.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “And Colin, you failed me.” His voice purred with gentle malice. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

  Colin felt a stab of fear. “I’m sorry . . .” he whispered.

  “There, now.” The Master nodded. “That wasn’t so hard. Oh, hold on—”

  He jabbed his finger viciously into Colin’s face. Colin gasped in pain as his eyeball suddenly popped, squishing deep in its socket.

  The Master smiled at him. “You’ve got something in your eye.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Giles was still poring intently over his notes. When he suddenly realized that someone had entered the library, he glanced up, his voice hopeful.

  “Buffy?”

  Willow shook her head, looking apologetic. “It’s just me. So there’s no word?”

  Giles’s face fell. “Not as yet.” He looked very tired as he took off his glasses.

  “Well, I’m sure they’re . . . great,” Willow offered, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

  “Did you find anything of interest?” he asked her.

  The girl sat down, spreading out the copied articles so he could see.

  “I think maybe. I looked through the old papers, around the time of that big earthquake back in ‘Thirty-seven.” Willow placed her finger on one of the pages. “And for several months before it, there was a rash of murders.”

  “Great!” Giles straightened and put his glasses back on. “I mean, not great in a good way. . . . Go on.”

  Willow obligingly began flipping through the articles. “They sound like the kind you were looking for. Throats, blood. Months, and not even a clue.”

  “It’s all coming together.” He nodded. And then, with an anxious glance at Willow, “I rather wish it weren’t.”