The Harvesting (8 page)

I pulled Tom away.

“
What is it?” Tom asked as
we passed through the gym and into the classroom
hallway.

“
You heard my grandma got
sick?” I asked him.

“
Yeah, someone mentioned
it. Sorry.”

“
I had to put her down
myself. I almost couldn’t do it. But you know my grandma, always on
about the spirits. I think I heard her tell me to kill her. Can you
believe that? I heard her in my head. She said “kill me.” So I did.
It was the worst moment of my life.” There was only minor risk in
telling him. Before his wedding, Tom had come to see Grandma.
Shortly thereafter he called off the wedding. I often wondered what
Grandma had seen that so convinced him.

“
I don’t know what to
say,” Tom said. He gazed down at me with a confused look on his
face.

We were standing outside Mrs. White’s
classroom door.

“
They tell me your niece,
Karie, is inside,” I said, motioning to the door. “I can handle it
if you want, but I thought it should be your decision.”

Tom inhaled sharply, his hand covering
his mouth.

Drawn by the noise, Karie appeared on
the other side of the door. Her face looked almost like a China
doll: her pale white skin was surrounded by a halo of black hair.
But there was no mistaking those undead eyes and the frothy drool
coming from her mouth.

Tom stared at her, wiping the tears
from his eyes. He took a deep breath and then backed up to the
wall. He loaded his gun and aimed toward the door.

I took a few steps away to avoid the
spray of glass. I turned my back.

“
I’m sorry, baby,” I heard
him whisper.

Boom.
The sound of the shot-gun echoed in the hallway and made my
ears ring. I heard the little body hit the floor with a
thud.

Tom slid down the wall and put his
head on his knees. He wept. “I was there when she was born. They
put that newborn baby in my hands. I was the one who showed her to
my sister,” he moaned through tears.

I sat beside him, my arm around his
back, my head leaning on his shoulder. What could I say? Despair
was all around us. It was too much to bear if you let it in. The
grief was palpable. We sat there for a long time listening to the
sound of occasional gunfire outside the school. After a while,
Jamie appeared.

“
Everyone is ready,” he
said.

I nodded and rose.

Standing up, Tom wiped his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said, hugging me, and then he headed back to the
gym. Jamie and I followed him.

“
You were right,” Jamie
whispered as he cast a glance toward Tom. We headed back toward the
gym, but before we entered, Jamie stopped. He took my hand and
looked carefully at me. “Layla, was Ian at your place last
night?”

I gave Jamie’s hand a squeeze. It was
not what Jamie was thinking, but I was not really sure what had
happened between Ian and me. I also wasn’t sure why the look on
Jamie’s face made me feel so embarrassed. Jamie and I had always
been friends—he was Ian’s brother after all—but suddenly I felt
worried about what he thought of me. In the end, I said nothing but
walked hand-in-hand with Jamie into the gym.

When we entered, Ian spotted us. A
strange look of shame and jealousy washed over his face. All the
eyes in the gym turned toward me.

Jamie smiled down at me. “Go ahead,”
he said, urging me toward the front of the crowd.

“
Me? You’re the one with
all the military experience.”

“
Yeah, but I didn’t blow
up the community center yesterday nor am I a historian who knows
everything about warfare.”

“
Ancient
warfare.”

“
Well, clearly, the
medieval period is back in style.”

“
Me?”

“
It has to be
you.”

I balked for a moment and then, taking
a deep breathe, went to the front. I jumped up on the stage. I then
remembered my third grade Christmas play. We’d been a living
Christmas tree. I’d played the tinsel. Grandma had sewn me a shiny
gold and silver costume. Ian had played a snowflake.

“
Hello, everyone. You all
probably heard the announcements we made this morning. Hopefully
our neighbors have hung their houses with white, red, or black
flags. We need to get the living accounted for and brought up to
speed on the plan to keep the town safe. Jamie and Mrs. Finch
should go in teams to attend to the red flags. Please be careful.
We have no idea if those injuries are a broken arm or the bite from
an undead. Black, we need an armed team to handle. If there is no
flag, that likely means the house is either empty or there are
undead inside. Look for survivors. Kill the undead. We’ll divide
into groups. Any questions?”

“
Sounds good, Layla,”
Pastor Frank said, “but the other problem is that the power is out
now. I don’t have a fireplace in the rectory. What should I
do?”

I spotted a rolling whiteboard and
pulled it onto the stage. I grabbed a marker and drew a grid on the
board. “If you’re armed, put your name here. If you have a
fireplace, a way to heat your home, put your name here. If you have
need, put your name and your need here. We need to open our homes
and our hearts if we want to make it through the
winter.”

“
Layla,” a voice called
from the back.

I scanned around until I spotted an
older gentleman in a marigold colored CAT ball-cap. A lit cigarette
hung from his mouth. It was Larry. Now we had someone to handle
dynamite. Relief washed over me.

“
The boys found me
yesterday and told me the plan to blow up the bridge. I can have it
rigged by tomorrow. I just need a careful hand or two to help,” he
said.

“
Volunteers?” I
called.

Mr. Jones and another young man I did
not know raised their hands.

“
There you go, Larry.
Thanks guys.”

“
Layla, we need more
weapons. We’ve cleared out the Lewis’ shop and the Sheriff’s
Office, but it’s still not enough. And we really need more ammo,”
Will said.

“
What about the VFW? They
got anything there?” I asked.

Will shook his head. “Just
antiques.”

“
They’ve got a working
cannon. We could use that,” Jeff said.

“
Dude, what are you gonna
do with a cannon? We’re not fighting the British armada,” Will
replied.

Jeff gave Will the finger.

“
What about the Mara
Hunting Club?” Summer asked. “Mom and I cater out there. I think
they leave guns locked up there all year round.”

“
There we go. Tomorrow
morning we need to get to work on barricades and some of us can
head up out to Mara. Those who can help should meet back here just
after dawn.”

Everyone nodded.

“
Let’s get everyone into
groups for the town sweep,” Jamie called out. “Keep track of who or
what you find and at what addresses,” he added, then began putting
people into teams.

As Jamie moved through the crowd, I
counted. Forty-seven. That was all that was left. Granted, it was
not a large town and there were many out-lying farms, but out of
nearly 600 or so, forty-seven was not much. I jumped off the
stage.

I noticed then that Frenchie was there
with her children. It was hard to miss her fiery red hair which
fell, disheveled, to her waist. She was filling tote bags with
canned goods.

“
Hey Frenchie,” I called
as I came over to her. I barely remembered her from high school.
She’d always been the quiet type. She’d gone off to college but
came home a year later pregnant—no dad in the picture. Her older
child, who also had red hair, looked to be about six, the younger
about four. She seemed really alone. Last I knew she was living in
a trailer near Griswold Cemetery.

“
Hey, Layla. Thanks for
everything you’re doing,” she said, trying to sound confident when
her voice and every line on her face told me otherwise. I eyed her
over. She already looked gaunt. I could not imagine what she must
have endured to keep her children safe. “These are my girls, Kira
and Susan,” she introduced.

I knelt down to look at them. “Who is
Kira and who is Susan?” I asked.

“
I’m Kira,” the older
child with red hair said. “She is Susan.”

“
You’re pretty,” Susan,
the younger girl with pixie-like features, told me.

I smiled at them. “Not as pretty as
the two of you,” I said, tapping them each on the nose. I rose.
“Frenchie, I was thinking, why don’t you and the girls stay with
me? The place is locked down. I’m remote so there is less potential
for traffic. And I’m well-stocked. You’ll be safe
there.”

The girls looked up at her with eager
anticipation.

“
You sure?” she
asked.

“
Of course. We’ll get you
moved in today.”

She set down her tote bags and wrapped
her arms around me. Her body was shaking. “Thank god. My girls . .
.” she whispered in my ear.

“
It’s okay. I’ll keep them
safe,” I whispered in reply. I hoped it was a promise I could
keep.

Chapter 10

Outside the gymnasium five armed men
stood smoking cigarettes, shot-guns hanging over their shoulders. I
recognized them but didn’t know their names. “We’re on watch here,”
one explained, and I nodded affirmatively.

I knew that my stunt at the community
center had earned me respect, but I was not quite comfortable with
the idea of being the leader of Hamletville. Not sure what to do
with myself, I decided to head out to join one of the sweep teams.
I found a team outside the Franklin house. By chance, Ian was
there. Ian, Jensen, Dusty, and Gary were staring up at the black
shirt hanging from an upstairs window of the run-down Victorian
mansion.

Shame-faced, Ian looked away from
me.

“
Hey Layla,” Jensen said
as I joined them. “We’re just thinking of a plan of
attack.”

“
If someone goes around
back and makes a lot of noise, whatever is inside will be drawn
that direction. The rest of us can go in from the front and get the
jump on them,” Ian suggested.

“
Is the door locked?” I
asked.

“
Not sure,” Dusty
answered.

“
I’ll go around back. I
can haul ass if needed,” Gary said and then left. We waited. A few
moments later we heard Gary in the back banging garbage can lids.
“Come and get it! Fresh meat on blue-light special in the back
yard,” he called.

I had to laugh. Gary was seemingly one
of the least funny men I’d ever met. I guess he was full of
surprises too.

The others laughed as well.

“
Got some action in the
window back here,” Gary yelled after a minute.

Dusty, Jensen, Ian, and I stepped
cautiously onto the porch. Dusty tried the door. “Locked,” he
whispered.

Ian pulled his shot-gun to
blast the lock, but I stopped him. I then lifted the lady bug
print
welcome
mat. The key was underneath.

“
This is why we put you in
charge,” Dusty said with a smile.

I handed Ian the key.

In the back, Gary was still slamming
garage lids, and I started to worry about anyone else who might be
lurking about in ear-shot.

We went in. The old Victorian had seen
better days. Plaster crumbled off the filigree trim around the
ceiling. The rose pattern wallpaper looked faded. It looked like
there had been a tussle in the living room. We could hear groaning
and the sound of a body slamming against the door in the
back.

“
There might be more than
one,” I whispered, my memory of the incident in the Sheriff’s
Office still fresh.

Jensen nodded and waved us toward the
left side of the house into the dining room. I bent one ear toward
the upstairs but heard nothing. The dining room was beautifully
bedecked with dark navy brocade wallpaper. A slightly tarnished tea
service sat on a cherry server. The formal dining room had a small
serving window that looked into the kitchen. In the back was an old
woman who clawed at the back door.

“
Got her,” Jensen
whispered and then took aim.

“
Watch out for Gary,” Ian
cautioned.

I turned away, unsheathing my sword,
and kept one eye on the dining room entryway.

Bam.
The hunting rifle discharged a loud boom that made the
chandelier rattle.

A moment later I heard a flurry of
feet from the other side of the house. Surprisingly fast for being
undead, a young woman, Jenna, caretaker for many of the town’s
elderly, emerged from a side room and lunged at me.

“
Layla!” Ian called
out.

Jumping onto a dining room chair, then
onto the table, I spun, the sword slicing through the air. I
severed Jenna’s skull in half. Her momentum caused her body to
fling forward. It hit the table and buckled. The severed head
spilled a mush of brains and blood onto the table.