Grim Harvest

by Patrick C. Greene

Giggling filtered through the door, of a kind that Stella recognized as relaxed and easy, like…post-coital banter. She crept to the door, ears pricked, and tried to stifle both her judgment and her—what the hell?—jealousy.

  She leaned against it and listened, certain she was ever closer to a let-down.

  Then the door opened, and there Stella was, leaning toward McGlazer. Like a busybody.

  “Hi there, Stella.” He stood there as if he’d expected to see her, an all-knowing expression on his face.

  She had enough poise to act natural. “Abe. I was worried.”

  Brianna stood behind McGlazer, smiling as she minutely adjusted the collar on her silk top—too dressy for a counseling session.

  “Was wondering about you,” said the reverend. “Come in. Join us.”

  “Oh no,” said Stella. “I just wondered if…you still had company.”

  “We’re quite finished.”

  Brianna waved at her. Stella couldn’t tell if it was a self-conscious gesture.

  “I…bought the supplies.” Stella felt compelled to raise the bags and show him.

  “Good lass,” said McGlazer.

  Brianna breezed past Stella and made her way out with a “Thank you!” to the reverend.

  “Well then. What shall we do now?” McGlazer’s glance might have fallen to her breasts—or was it the grocery bags she held too high?

  “You…have the sermon to finish.”

  “Yes indeed.” McGlazer stepped back into his office with a jaunty flourish and closed the door.

  * * * *

  Jill dropped the kickstand, removed her helmet, and slumped in the seat, grateful for a better day than yesterday. She loved seeing Stuart again, yet it was too close an association with Dennis.

  She felt selfish. Stuart had become nothing less than her own little brother too. She felt like she was spurning him, Ma, even DeShaun.

  Stuart needed a good ear for his many blooming insecurities, especially about Candace. Bless her heart, Ma was not prepared for this stage of the boy’s life. It was a time when he really needed a father—or a big brother.

  It would have been easier if Dennis was a philanderer, but he was far from it. Yet it did feel like he was cheating when he went off and got drunk, refusing to let her help him with his problems; instead simply feeding them by trying to drown them.

  She couldn’t watch him self-destruct. She couldn’t stop him. Music was no longer a sufficient outlet for him.

  I guess…neither am I. Jill hopped off, thinking of Dennis and how they used to be.

  She didn’t realize she was smiling at this, not even when a leathery hand slapped over her mouth, and a slick, devious voice said, “Aww, you happy to see me, baby?”

  * * * *

  “Remind me to take two weeks off next year,” Hudson huffed. “Before and after Halloween.”

  “What about now?” Leticia was nothing if not proactive.

  “The whole situation is…”

  “Delicate,” Leticia finished.

  “Yeah. I call social services, it might be weeks before they get somebody out there,” lamented Hudson. “I go myself, I might make things worse. But I don’t like this feeling in my gut, Teesh.”

  “Your gut’s usually right.”

  “Maybe I can just drive down. Sit and watch for a while, like a stakeout.”

  “What about the chief?”

  “I don’t think I should mention it. I don’t want to ruin McGlazer’s shot at adopting her. But I can’t just leave it hanging.”

  “Take a personal day, baby. I’ll call in for you.”

  Hudson hugged her, inhaled the comforting scent of her hair, and felt better. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  “You can’t go alone, Huds,”

  Hudson frowned at her. “Shavers has been…odd, since last year. Yoshida’s the only one I can trust. And he’s already pulling doubles.”

  Leticia went to the phone.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “Who do you think?”

  He raised an eyebrow with realization. “Pedro.”

  Chapter 14

  Intruders

  Pedro shifted his big frame in the passenger seat of Hudson’s Blazer. “Jeez, is police work always this lame?”

  “Yeah, well I’d be a ‘musician’ like you”—Hudson made air quotes—“if only I was as ‘talented’ and ‘handsome’ as you are.”

  Pedro threw his head back and gave a hearty guffaw. During the hour-long drive to the Dietrichs’ neighborhood, Hudson and Pedro had caught up on what they called town gossip, though their conversation actually carried a good deal of gravitas, covering McGlazer, the parade aftermath and Dennis. When it all became too gloomy the men slipped into their old habit of bagging on each other, never too far from smiling, no matter how cheap the shot.

  With twilight giving way to dark, they became serious again.

  “What’s worst case scenario, here?” Pedro asked, peering through Hudson’s binoculars.

  “We just gather intel,” Hudson said. “Get as close as we can. Get a read for the place. If it seems dangerous for Candace or any of the other kids…”

  “What?”

  “Hell if I know. I’ll either call it in, or I’ll go in, and you’ll stay out here and out of trouble.”

  “Yeah, right,” Pedro scoffed.

  His window shattered.

  A massive clawed hand closed on his throat.

  Reflexively, Pedro sunk his chin and flared his trapezius, crushing down on the steel cable fingers, knowing it would only buy him a split second.

  Hudson’s .44 discharged; thunder and lightning in a tiny space. The monstrous hand withdrew.

  Pedro felt blood soaking into his favorite Sex Pistols shirt. He was as pissed as he was startled. “What the—?”

  He peered out the window for the assailant, but there was nothing to see. Hudson’s shot had dropped it.

  Then a low growl vibrated alongside the ringing in Pedro’s ears.

  Hudson was already outside. “Slide out over here, Petey!”

  Pedro had started doing just that when a sudden gravity shift kicked in to assist. Something was flipping Hudson’s Blazer on its side like a card table.

  * * * *

  Every night at bedtime, the Dietrichs went from room to room encouraging progress where needed. Tonight, the ritual smashed to a halt at the sound of the back door violently splintering apart.

  A split-second later it was the front door shattering, accompanied by an unearthly guttural snarling.

  In Rebecca’s bedroom, Mrs. Dietrich screamed and backed into the hallway wall, knocking off a painting of a sad-eyed puppy. Mr. Dietrich froze solid at the sight of a musclebound biker armed with a German Luger coming from the family room, and something straight out of hell from the kitchen.

  The hirsute horror loped down the hall toward Dietrich—then past him. He was shaken from his state by Mrs. Dietrich’s terrified cry coming from Rebecca’s room.

  Before Mr. Dietrich could respond, Nico shoved the Luger against his temple, kicked his trembling feet out from under him and placed a boot on his chest. “The Geelens girl,” Nico said.

  Mrs. Dietrich’s shrill cries sounded like pleading in a foreign language, but abruptly went quiet.

  “Miriam!?” Mr. Dietrich called, presenting to Nico an open mouth, into which the biker jammed the handgun’s barrel.

  “Now!”

  Dietrich heard Miriam sob, and found cold comfort that she was still alive.

  * * * *

  Sliding toward the driver side, Pedro realized the Blazer would be on its side before he was out. His legs would be crushed.

  Pedro shut his eyes and prepared to scream. For the second time, a big hand closed on him—his jacket lapel this time—and yanked him hard.


  He found himself tossed behind Hudson. The chief deputy had just saved his bacon and was already trying to draw a bead across the upended vehicle. His target: a seven-and-a-half-foot man with a wolf’s head.

  The upended Blazer was coming at them again, the roof bulldozing Hudson toward Pedro, and the big poplar behind them. Pedro grabbed Hudson and spun him away from the crushing juggernaut in a classic wrestling waistlock throw.

  The roof of the Blazer bashed in as Pedro and Hudson got to their feet and beheld the beast in its fullness: Muscular legs jointed at the calves, long hairy arms ending in inch-long claws, slavering teeth in a huge snout, glowing eyes burning with hunger and hate.

  * * * *

  Groggy and disoriented, Candace nonetheless rose and stumbled to Emera, unaware of the useless straps.

  She covered the little girl with her body, quickly regaining her senses as the din beyond her door reached her ears. Neither girl was comforted when the hysterical Mrs. Dietrich burst in and fell upon them. “I’m so sorry, Candace!” she sobbed. “I’ll do my best—”

  A silhouette shaped like a giant standing wolf appeared in the doorway. It ducked its head, tucked its ears and stomped through. The underlit abomination’s deep rumbling growl shook Candace’s very bones.

  Emera screamed. Mrs. Dietrich tightened her embrace, but suddenly flew away from Candace like a startled finch, tossed into the far wall by the furry demon. The little girls were exposed, helpless.

  Candace heard the other kids crying. She felt sad for them.

  * * * *

  Crouching beside Hudson, Pedro pressed his hand against the stinging scratches on his neck.

  Hudson fired off three quick shots, hitting the monster full in the chest and abdomen. It stumbled back from the force, but no wounds appeared.

  “Aw hell,” whispered Hudson, as it regained its balance and advanced on them. As the wolf thing lowered its head and drew back its huge paws to attack, Hudson fought to steady his grip on the handgun.

  “What are you waiting for!?” Pedro shouted.

  Unbelievably, Hudson took a quick step toward the thing, then quickly withdrew.

  A feint. The monster opened its maw for a snap at the lawman—and Hudson fired.

  The beast yelped as its head and body snapped back like a wet towel. It hit the ground and instantly rolled to its feet.

  Blood poured from the creature’s mouth and pattered on the ground. Though it hacked and coughed, it showed no signs of pain, or real damage.

  “Dammit!” Hudson knew he had only one round left, and he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  A series of whistles sounded from somewhere near the Dietrich house. The beast pricked its ears toward the sound. It lunged at Hudson and Pedro, shoulder bashing them to the ground before bounding away with unnatural speed.

  * * * *

  “Sheriff’s deputy here!” Hudson called as he and Pedro ran toward the house. “We’re coming in!” He stepped over the wrecked door and repeated the declaration.

  Hearing sounds of distress, they jogged through the hall to the room from whence the cries emanated and found Mrs. Dietrich lying stiff and breathless, blood pooling around her broken body.

  Kneeling beside her was Mr. Dietrich, hysterical and incoherent.

  The housefather babbled a litany of apologies and regrets at Hudson. Upon seeing Pedro behind him, Dietrich cried out, assuming the big leather-jacketed Hispanic to be another biker. Hudson holstered his weapon and clasped Dietrich’s shoulders, calming him with reassurances.

  While Hudson dealt with the housefather, Pedro found a dish towel and applied it to his neck. He lifted a toaster to use as a mirror, relieved to find the puncture wounds superficial, but still pissed about the ruined Sex Pistols shirt.

  He went room to room and collected all the kids from hiding places under beds and in closets, corralling them in one room, trying to calm them. They all burbled about a werewolf, swearing they weren’t lying. They couldn’t know he and Hudson had just done battle with one.

  Finding little Emera trembling and balled up on the far corner of her bed he coaxed her to come to him. He cooed to her as he carried her to the kitchen, where he poured milk for all of them in plastic cups, then rolled these to the bedroom on a serving cart.

  He saw Hudson keeping Dietrich’s hands still, trying to get some sense from his gibberish. “Your wife’s gonna be okay,” Hudson kept telling him, and Pedro knew he meant it only in the long view; the lady was busted up like a china teapot in a train wreck.

  “Drink it slow, you guys.” Pedro passed out the milk then placed a call for an ambulance using the same cordless phone Candace had used to call Stuart.

  He returned to the kids, who continued to shout about the monster—all except the biggest kid, Rebecca. She just kept saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  Pedro managed to shush the others and ask her why.

  “Just last night. I…I pranked her!”

  “Don’t worry about that right n—”

  “No, it was really bad!” Rebecca sobbed. “I dressed up like her psycho brother and went to the window!”

  “What!?” Despite his innate concern for the children, Pedro was enraged. “What the hell’s wrong with you, kid?”

  “I’m so sorry!” Rebecca said, barely comprehensible in her terrified state. “Mr. Dietrich said it would help her. But we didn’t know this would happen!”

  Pedro tried to wrap his head around the revelation. He had only enough calm left to give her a pat on the head. Then he tromped back to the living room. Hudson immediately sensed his fury and stepped in front of him before he could seize Dietrich’s scrawny neck.

  “Whoa whoa!” Hudson had to brace himself to hold back the big bassist. “What the hell, Pedro!?”

  They engaged in a brief shoving match, before Pedro relented. “That son of a bitch is pulling some seriously screwed-up shit with these kids, man!”

  Hudson saw guilt behind Dietrich’s terror. “What did you do?”

  “I…had no choice!”

  Flashing lights filled the air, car doors slammed, radios squawked.

  Dietrich remained a jittery mess. If he were ever to learn how close he had come to a beatdown from a bulked-up Mexican punker, he would have surely listed it right alongside the werewolf and biker attack.

  Chapter 15

  Captivity

  “Lucky you can ride, baby,” Pipsqueak mocked, as he hopped on his Harley behind Jill. “Careful though. I doubt you ever rode a beast like this.”

  He kept the muzzle of his .25 pressed into her spine as she maneuvered onto the highway, digging it a little deeper whenever they rode close to other motorists. The ride got rough once they passed the pumpkin and corn fields and headed up into the rocky curves of Cronus County’s fabled hills and hollers, where the moonshine industry had once thrived as mightily as the pumpkin crop did in the present day.

  Despite the gun in her back, Jill was quick to respond with a middle finger or a “Go to Hell!” at every word or movement from the snarky biker. But her bravado didn’t make her feel any better about the many miles piling up behind her, or the thickening forest beside the worsening road.

  She knew there were still homes, even sprawling farms up in these hills. But no one she knew, or knew of, lived up here. Anyone willing to live this far out usually didn’t have much use for malls or bars or even grocery stores—and would just as soon mind their own business as get involved with the doings of an outlaw biker gang.

  Eventually, the road opened up some, and a chimney top came into sight, attached to a good-sized farm house.

  It didn’t bode well that the hoodlum uncomfortably close behind her and his friends were operating out of such an isolated location. Jill felt a terrifying uncertainty rise to join the despair of her broken heart. Yet she eagerly anticipated the prospect of
field-goaling some nutsacks, en route to whatever horrors awaited her.

  Maneuvering the big Harley into the scrubby yard, she caught sight of the well-kept barn off toward the neighboring field and had a strange feeling she would wind up inside of it.

  A striking leather-clad Amazon stepped out from the house and leaned against the porch post, followed by two more bikers; big shaggy men with faces of hate and chaos. They waved to Pipsqueak. She saw him in the mirror, sticking out his tongue, raising his arms to point down at her triumphantly.

  “Kill the engine,” he said, issuing a wolf-howl whoop, answered by the others. He hopped off and yanked Jill to her feet by the arm.

  “Still got the touch, I see,” said the tattoo-pated one, whom she would soon learn was called Jiggy.

  “Stick it up your ass, dirtbag,” Jill said.

  This was met with casual chuckles.

  “Hey Nico!” called Hobie. “Come see!”

  The name Nico meant something—and not good.

  “I take it this wasn’t her first choice of date destinations,” Jiggy said.

  “I know. Ain’t she perfect?”

  “What, for all of us?” asked Hobie.

  “No,” Nico said, as he walked toward them. “For Ruthie.” He took out his cigarettes. “To wear.”

  Nico. Ruthie. Pieces were falling into place.

  The leader came close, removed his mirror lenses and met her defiant gaze. “Damn, honey.”

  Jill responded by spitting in his face.

  With a roar, Aura attacked her, swinging a gloved fist. Jill ducked it and countered with a slug that sent the biker bitch to her ass.

  Jiggy burst out laughing—then cried out in agony, as Jill arced her boot point into his scrotum.

  “Whoa, lil’ filly!” said Pipsqueak, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Jill smashed the back of her head into Pipsqueak’s chin, making him release.

  From the ground, Aura lunged to grab Jill’s ankle. Jill knelt and rained blows on Aura’s uncovered head.

  “God…damn,” said Nico, as he stepped toward Jill. She swung a blistering right. Nico dodged it, then dropped her with a headbutt.