The Harvest (Book 1) (11 page)

Edward’s empty gaze stared into space. “Not a cupcake.” He mumbled before his conscious mind graciously took leave, allowing him to fall into a deep slumber.

8 EDWARD

Six Months Earlier

Plainfield, Illinois

8:00 am. Jenni McGrath, a pretty young woman with brilliant green eyes and soft blonde hair, pushed a swing that held her son, seven year old Ryan. All around them sat neat piles of colorful fall leaves. Edward, her husband of ten years, raked the last stragglers into a nearby pile.

He leaned on his rake and admired his wife and son. Ryan screamed in delighted fear as he soared high into the air. Jenni turned, threw Edward a warm smile. They were a very tight trio.  A connection made so by the three miscarriages Jenni had before finally carrying their fourth child, Ryan, almost full term. He was born a month premature and spent six weeks in ICU before they could take him home. After hearing Ryan’s robust hollering, no one would have guessed that the doctors had fretted over his poor lung development.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud and the landscape lost all its vibrancy. A slight breeze picked up a few leaves from Edward’s piles, tossing them back on the brown grass. Edward’s smile faded to a frown. He viewed the sky with distrust and a grumble. The breeze answered his grumble by increasing in strength. And with one gust the fruits of Edward’s labor were scattered across the lawn.

Edward stared dumbfounded at the leaves; the rake fell from his hand. Jenni stopped pushing the swing. Ryan didn’t hesitate to jump off, and run over to his dad. He picked up the rake.

“I’ll help you dad.” He flung leaves everywhere. “Come on mom.” He waved Jenni over. 

“Should I get some bags?” Jenni took Edward’s hand.

“That would help.” He kicked a leaf from his shoe. “And the other rake, if you would please.”

“Sure thing boss.” She reached up, kissed his cheek. “Time to let the professionals take over.” He smiled now. After all they were only leaves.

While Jenni was off in search of bags, Edward and Ryan raked leaves into a monstrous pile which they promptly ran through at full speed. Edward ran and dove onto the pile. Ryan jumped on top of him. They wrestled for a bit, before they both rolled over onto their backs. Ryan took Edward’s hand in his.  Father and son stared up at the gray sky.

“Are the Bears gonna win the Superbowl this year dad?”

“Of course they are. Maybe. Well it’s really hard to say this early in the season.”

“I hope they win. I hope they beat the Cowboys good too.” Ryan punched at invisible foes. “Dad. Why do leaves fall off the trees?”

“It’s part of their life cycle. They fall off so new ones can grow in the spring.”

“Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Why do people die?”

“Because they…they’ve lived a long life and it’s time for them to go to Heaven.” He glanced down at his son, whose forehead was creased. If Edward could glimpse inside he would see his son’s little brain working hard over something he had heard at school.

“Have I lived a long life?”

Edward laughed. “Not even close. A long life is like a hundred years, not seven. Why Ryan?”

“Cuz Charlie Jenner said his sister Sarah was going to die soon.” He shifted to turn innocent blue eyes up to his father. “And she’s only six.”

“Oh. Well Sarah’s body is…you see Ryan… it’s like this…” Edward fumbled.

“Charlie said it’s cuz she has cancer termites and they’re eating her bones up like wood termites do when they eat a tree or your house. I told him that wasn’t true. I told him cancer was a disease not a bug. It’s not true is it dad? Are cancer termites really eating her bones?” Ryan posed his questions in the same matter of fact way as the millions of others he queried his parents about on any given day.

Jenni returned just in time to save Edward. She held a tray with mugs of hot chocolate with mini marsh mellows and warm cinnamon rolls oozing with white glaze. Ryan forgot all about bone eating termites and ran ahead of his parents to the patio.

“Did I hear something about termites?” She handed the tray to Edward, brushed leaves off his back.

Edward nodded. “Bone eating termites. He was asking about Sarah Jenner.”

“What did you tell him?” She wasn’t surprised Ryan would want to know about things like cancer. He was forever curious about everything.

“Nothing. You walked up and hot chocolate became his interest of the minute.” Edward too recognized his son had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, on a wide range of subjects. In fact, he was the only kid Edward ever met whose favorite shows were on the History channel.

“Good. He’s too young to worry about things like cancer.” She looked over at their son.

“I agree. So are we finished out here or just taking a break?” Edward hoped it was not the latter; he had enough leaves for now.

“We’re finished. Don’t forget your mom expects us for dinner tonight.” She reminded him. 

Edward made a face of pain. “Maybe I should stay here. Finish cleaning up the yard before it rains.” He pointed to the gray clouds looming in the sky.

Jenni shook her head. “No way mister.  If anyone’s staying behind it’s gonna be me.”

“What does that mean?” He set the tray down on the patio table where an impatient Ryan waited for his hot chocolate. 

Jenni handed Ryan and Edward a mug each, took one for herself. “She wouldn’t care if she ever saw me again.”

“That’s absolutely not true Jenni.” He said with little conviction behind his claim.

“Mom can we go inside? I’m freezing down to my toe nails.” Ryan unknowingly interrupted a decade long debate his parents were having over how little Edward’s mom cared for Jenni. A fact Edward knew was true, but would never openly admit to his wife.

“Of course we can sweetie.” Jenni placed their mugs back on the tray. “Get the door for mommy. Please.” Ryan was happy to hold the door open for his mom, and even happier to get out of the cold that had silently intruded upon their morning.

Edward returned to the pile to retrieve the rakes they left on the lawn. In a final attempt to bring order to the pile of leaves he and Ryan had destroyed, Edward took a few swipes at them with the rake. A powerful gust of wind fought against him and he gave up fighting nature. The winds pushed a hole through the clouds to allow sunlight to shine through. Edward looked through the half barren tree, caught a glimpse of the sun. He squinted, shaded his eyes with his hand.

“What is that?” He walked around the tree to where he had a clear view of the sky. There on the horizon sat the sun, surrounded by a brilliant halo and flanked by half suns. Edward stared through his fingers at the beautiful and strange sight.

A snow flake landed on his hand. He moved his hand from the front of his face and a snowflake fell straight in his eye. He blinked several times, wiped the cold moisture away. He closed his eyes, waiting for the irritation to subside. All around him was quiet, save the occasional sound of leaves being disturbed by the wind.

Edward felt something brush his arm and what sounded like someone, or thing, running very fast through the leaves. His eyes snapped open and he spun around in search of the intruder. There was no one there. Edward laughed at his overreaction. Of course it was just the wind. The back door slammed, startling him for a second time in less than a minute.

“What are you so jumpy about?” He walked towards the house.  “You’re actin’ like an old woman.” He chided.

A chilling scream from inside the house momentarily froze Edward in his tracks. He dropped the rakes and sprinted for the door. 

Edward tugged on the handle, but the door was locked.  Another scream shattered his nerves. 

“Jenni!” He banged on the door.

“Daddy!”

The sound of his son’s frightened screams propelled Edward into high gear. He grabbed a metal lawn chair, and heaved it through the plate glass window. Disregarding the jagged glass, he jumped through the hole.

“Jenni!”

“Ryan!”

***

In the middle of broken glass and overturned chairs Edward sat on the floor staring at the empty space in front of him.  Lying next to him was his cell phone. Not far off was the overturned hot chocolate tray. Pieces of ceramic from the mugs were scattered several feet away, hot chocolate splattered on the wall had reached the floor making tiny brown puddles. If he allowed himself to think it through, he might come to the conclusion that an intruder had shoved Jenni from behind, but he didn’t allow himself to come to conclusions or think things through about what might have happened to his wife and son.

Edward, to no avail, dialed nine-one-one again. The phone just rang and rang. He called other family members, his neighbors, their priest, and when all those phones rang non-stop Edward got up. He moved through the wreckage of his home and out the front door into a mad swirl of snow. The weather was of no consequence in light of his current situation. He crossed the street without looking, there was no one around. He knocked on his neighbor’s door. No one answered. He turned the knob and found it was unlocked. Stepping inside the foyer, he called for Helen, but was answered by silence. Feeling a bit like an intruder himself, he decided to leave, but something pink caught his eye. Pink painted toe nails on a bare foot.

A bare foot that protruded out from behind the kitchen wall. The foot demanded him to come forward, to peek around the wall. He obeyed the beckoning foot, his eyes transfixed on the pink nail polish as he moved closer to the corner of the wall. In his mind he repeated over and over to be calm, to hold it together no matter what was waiting beyond. He grasped hold of the corner, peered around the wall. His eyes moved from the pink toe nails, up a slender naked leg, past black lace panties, to the horrendous carnage of what use to be his neighbor Helen.

“Oh my god.  Helen. Helen.” He covered his mouth, forcing his breakfast back down his throat with a hard swallow. When he stepped over Helen’s body, his foot slipped in the pool of blood spread out across the tile. He reached for the back of the nearest chair, catching it just in time to prevent falling on top of Helen.

A few deep breaths later, Edward was able to look at Helen. He wondered who could have done such a horrible thing to her. He thought not even Dahmer was so viciously disturbed to rip a person in two and steal their heart. Maybe it was a cult, like way back in the days of Charlie Manson and his gang of murderers.

As Edward pondered this, it struck him a bit odd how Helen was dressed, or lack thereof, in the middle of the day. He had heard rumors of an affair, but never thought much about it.  Maybe this was the act of a jealous husband. Maybe whoever did this had nothing to do with his missing wife and son. Maybe the person who stole his family only wanted money. Yes, this was a theory Edward could cope with, a theory that wouldn’t send his mind mad with images like the one in front of him.

After he covered Helen with a red table cloth he found in the kitchen, Edward ventured back outside. The snow was falling hard and swift. High drifts, aided by gale force winds, covered everything in sight. Vehicles, bicycles, shrubs, all lay under a blanket of white. The snow didn’t faze him, nor did the biting winds, for Edward was close to numb already. His brain’s defense mechanisms had kicked into high gear as soon as he laid eyes on Helen. They kept the wheels of thought turning at a normal pace, prevented the melt down he was sure to have if his worst nightmares came true.

Faced with the suffocating uncertainty of what to do next, Edward returned home. He hoped against hope to wake up from this nightmare, but when he walked through the door everything was as he’d left it, and hope was crushed with a vengeance. His brain faltered, the wheels picked up speed and his mind’s projector flashed images before him, images so gruesome he covered his face in an attempt to block them out. The stress played with his fragile mind.

“Daddy.” Ryan’s voice echoed in the foyer, making Edward drop his hands, causing hope to reappear in his eyes, only to be dealt a swift and final blow when he stared at the nothing in front of him. He lingered for a moment longer, wavering between a mental collapse or taking action. He decided on the latter.

Fifteen minutes later, Edward was bundled in a Gortex jacket made to withstand the harshest winter elements along Chicago’s Lakeshore Drive. Gloves and boots built for twenty below zero and a Chicago Bears scarf wrapped around his face and neck. Jenni had given him the scarf for Christmas last year, but he didn’t think about her, or Christmas, or anything except finding out what happened. He walked out the door and down the street.

Four hours later Edward rapped a brass knocker against the wood door of an impressive brick house. He had waded through five miles of snow, knocked on over a hundred doors and had yet to find a single living soul. There were more Helens, many more. And the hopelessness increased. It seemed this house was going to be no different. No one came to the door of another makeshift tomb for whatever remains might lie within.

The door knob turned easy enough under his hand. Desperate for rest, Edward decided if the former occupants were not splayed out in plain sight, he’d stay long enough to warm his frozen body. He gave the massive door a heavy shove, waited until it swung all the way open to reveal the home’s grand marble entrance.

“Hello.” His voice echoed through the house. He leaned inside. “Is anyone home?” A quick glance behind him and in both directions assured he was not being followed. He stepped into the foyer, closing and locking the door behind him. “Hello.” He yelled out and took a step forward. Each step was slow, cautious. Despite repeated confirmation of his solitude, he couldn’t help feeling like he was not alone.

The living room was much like all the others he’d been in. An overturned bookcase held the couch hostage, a half empty drink had been left on the coffee table, and here in this home a bagel lay on the floor, cream cheese side down. Edward stepped over the bagel and a pile of leather bound books. He took out his cell phone, hit redial and held the phone to his ear as he made his way through the living room to the kitchen.