A Killer Harvest

by Paul Cleave

  Nobody can ever say she didn’t go out fighting.

  She is three paces from Mr. Bad when he hears her and pivots towards her.

  She is two paces away when he takes aim at her.

  One pace away when he pulls the trigger.

  She slumps to the floor, different parts of her body crying out to be heard, but there is pain everywhere, she is so overloaded with it she doesn’t even know where she’s been shot, all she knows is she has been. She watches Mr. Bad turn towards Joshua where, behind the boy, the man who came to help is lying on the ground with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead, looking in her direction.

  The pain, the disappointment of failure, the knowledge she’s going to die and Joshua too, it all becomes too much for her then, and she gives in to it all and a moment later everything inside her switches off.

  SEVENTY

  Detective Vega hits the ground clutching her chest with one hand and clutching Joshua’s cell phone with the other. The man who shot her turns back towards Joshua.

  Come on, Joshua thinks. You not only have your father’s eye, but Simon Bower’s too. Look at the scene the way the man who killed your dad would.

  He has to be like Simon Bower.

  “You killed your dog,” he says, barely able to hear his own voice over the storm, over his ringing ears, over his scrambling thoughts on what to do next.

  The man relaxes his grip on the gun, but just a little. “What did you say?”

  “I said you killed your dog,” Joshua says, trying to sound calm and collected, trying to sound like it’s just another day, trying to sound how he imagines Simon Bower would sound all while trying not to throw up. He nods towards Detective Vega and does his best impersonation of someone not only older than him, but cold and crazy. “You’re going to have to get another one.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “I’ve been keeping a dog here,” he says, “but it escaped. We were out looking for her.”

  The man looks unsure. “Did you find her?”

  “Can I grab a drink?” Joshua asks, trying to derail this man’s thoughts.

  “You want a drink?”

  “I’m thirsty,” he says.

  “No. You can’t have a drink.”

  “Can I at least come inside?” He smiles, but surely the smile must look flat on him, like something poorly painted on. But isn’t that how Simon Bower and Vincent Archer got by in society? By painting on emotions that weren’t real? “This is my house, after all, so really I shouldn’t be the one having to ask for permission. I need to grab a towel.”

  “Your cabin? I thought it belonged to Vincent Archer.”

  “It does, but I stay here sometimes. It’s certainly more my house than it is yours.”

  “So who’s that then?” the man asks, nodding towards the dead man on the ground.

  “William,” Joshua says, using the first name that comes to mind. “We stay out here sometimes. He and Vincent are friends.”

  The man slowly nods, perhaps taking all of it in, perhaps taking it in and not believing a single word.

  “You never did say if you found your dog.”

  “We found her. We had to . . . put her down. We were coming back to grab a shovel, and now thanks to you I’m going to have to dig the hole by myself. I’m coming inside now,” he says. “I didn’t dress for this weather.”

  He moves forward, and the man takes a few steps back. He closes the door behind him. They both step over Vega’s body and move into the lounge. He barely looks at her. He can’t, because if he does it will betray his real thoughts.

  “So do you want to tell me what you’re doing in our cabin?” Joshua asks, and he moves to the window and looks out at the storm. Nobody is coming.

  The man doesn’t answer him. The sky lights up again, and when the lightning disappears, it makes the room seem even darker. Soon they won’t be able to see anything at all. As it is he has to strain to see things clearly. The thunder is close enough and loud enough it vibrates through the floor.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” Joshua says, and turns to face him. “You’ve killed my friend, and you shot your dog and got blood everywhere,” he says, and he looks over to Vega, where blood is pooling beneath her feet and under her back, and she walked on the metal shoes. She’s driven the spikes into her feet, and his hands are shaking so much he balls them up into fists behind his back so the man can’t see. It’s taking all his strength and willpower to stay standing upright, because his legs feel so weak. He thinks he can see Detective Vega’s chest still rising and falling, but really it’s too dark to know for sure. If she is alive, it’s doubtful she will remain that way for long. He needs to find an excuse to examine her. That way he can get his phone. “Who is she?”

  “She’s nobody now.”

  “You should leave and take her with you,” Joshua says. “She’s your mess, not mine. I already have two bodies to bury, and I don’t want my next dog seeing her.”

  “Your next dog?”

  “I have to replace the one we put down,” he says. He pauses, and then he smiles. “Actually, you know what? I think maybe we can help each other.”

  “How?”

  “You need a new dog, and I need a new dog. I help you, and you help me. But first we need to get rid of the bodies. We should bury them. If you like, you can keep your dog out here at the cabin. There’s plenty of room. We could even look at having a couple of dogs each,” he says. “As many as we want.”

  “I could just—” There is more lightning, then more thunder, the time between them a little longer than before. “Could just kill you.”

  “There will be days when you can’t look after the dogs when I can. Plus you owe me.”

  “Owe me?”

  “You killed the man who was helping me.”

  The man nods. “I like the idea of lots of dogs,” he says.

  “So what do you say? Partners?” Joshua asks, and puts his hand out.

  The man does nothing. Just stares at Joshua deep in thought, then after a few seconds he lowers the gun. He tucks it into the waistband of his jeans. He steps forward and puts his hand out. “Partners,” he says. “My name is Gregory.”

  “Levi,” Joshua says, and pictures the kid from yesterday who almost ran him down on his bike. Then, to reassure this guy that he’s still the alpha, he defers the next option to him. “You want to bury the bodies now? Or wait till it’s stopped raining?”

  “You look familiar, Levi. Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “I’m not sure,” Joshua says. “So . . . do we bury the bodies now?”

  “Let’s wait till it’s stopped raining.”

  “Then we shouldn’t leave William in the doorway. I’ll drag him inside.”

  He takes a few steps for the door, knowing Gregory will tell him to stop because it isn’t just a dead man at the door, but a dead man and a gun. He’s made it halfway when Gregory tells him to wait. He stops and turns around.

  “I’ll get him,” Gregory says.

  Gregory steps over Vega to get to the door, which gives Joshua the chance he needs. He crouches down and takes his phone out of Vega’s hand. He enters his security code. He dials 111 and turns the volume down low and slides the phone into his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Gregory asks.

  Gregory has stepped back into the lounge and is staring at him. He now has two guns.

  “Nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like you were trying to make a call. Whose phone is that?”

  “It was in the dead woman’s hand,” he says, trying to give detail to whoever answers the phone. “I was putting it into my pocket so it wouldn’t get left behind.”

  “You’re lying,” Gregory says.

  “It’s true. I was turning it off so nobody could trace it. The police might figure out she’s missing, and they might use it to figure out where she is.”

  “Have you been lying to me all along?”

 
; “I’m not lying.”

  “She didn’t have a phone on her, because I took it off her earlier.”

  “It was in her hand,” he says. “I promise you.”

  “No. It wasn’t. I think it’s your phone.”

  Joshua can feel the tension in the room rising. “It was in her hand,” he says. “I was turning it off.”

  “Then show me.”

  “What?”

  “Show me the phone and how it’s switched off. It really is a simple request, Levi. Hand it over. Keep in mind, if you’re lying, you’re dying.”

  He reaches for his pocket.

  “No,” Gregory says. “I’ll get it. Put your hands up.”

  “But—”

  “I said put them up, Levi.”

  He puts them up. While keeping a gun pointed at him and the other tucked under his arm, Gregory reaches into Joshua’s pocket for the phone. He tries to think of something to say or do, but can’t come up with anything. Seeing the world from his dad’s or Simon Bower’s points of view doesn’t help.

  There’s another flash of lightning, and a moment later the window smashes inwards, glass spraying into the room. Gregory takes his fingers off the cell phone and turns the gun towards the broken window and fires four shots through it, the thunder sounding like a fifth. Joshua can’t believe his luck, and takes the chance to reach into his pocket and hold down the power button. With the window gone, the curtains billow into the room. Rain starts coming in. Gregory bends down and picks up the broken branch that came through the window. The storm must have torn it from a tree and thrown it at the cabin. Joshua is relieved it happened, but disappointed it was only a branch, and not the police opening fire.

  Gregory tosses the branch aside, then takes the phone out of Joshua’s pocket. He looks at the display. He taps at it, getting nothing.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” Gregory says.

  “We should bring William inside,” Joshua says. He wonders how far away the police are. Wonders how much they heard. Did they listen, or hang up? Is Detective Vega dead or alive?

  They reach the door. Gregory watches him, but Joshua doesn’t have the strength to move the dead man. He considers running for it. If he can get a head start, he’ll be difficult to find. That’s if he can get a head start. Even if he can, that isn’t going to help Detective Vega.

  Gregory moves ahead of him so he’s closer to the door and helps him with the body. They dump him on the floor inside the doorway, and when Joshua straightens himself up Gregory is pointing the gun back at him. “You said the dead woman,” he says.

  “What?”

  “You said the phone was in the dead woman’s hand, not the dead dog’s hand. Everything you’ve been saying—I have to be honest, son, but it feels like you’re playing me for the fool. I think it’s best we part ways. You made a good effort, you really did, and I’m never going to be sure one way or the other about you. This is for the best. At least the best for me.”

  “I’ve been having the dreams too,” Joshua says.

  “What?”

  “The dreams of blood.”

  “How do you know about my dreams?”

  “I had an operation. I received a kidney,” he says, because if he says eyes he knows this man will figure out who he is.

  “When?”

  “Three weeks ago, almost four.”

  “No, no, that’s not right. I know where I recognize you from. You’re the kid that’s been in the news a lot.”

  “None of that matters,” Joshua says. “All that matters is we have the same desires, and if—”

  “Small world how we both ended up out here,” Gregory says. “Too small for both of—” he says, but then he stops talking. He stares at Joshua as if confused by all of it, the operations, the dreams, confused by why he’s out here. He lowers his gun. Then his body sags. A moment later he hits the ground.

  Standing behind him soaked to the bone in the doorway and holding a tire iron is Dr. Toni.

  SEVENTY-ONE

  While Dr. Toni goes to work on Detective Vega, Joshua pats down Gregory, finding the handcuff keys in his left jacket pocket. He uses them to remove the cuffs from Vega and puts them on Gregory. He asks Dr. Toni where she came from, but she tells him there’ll be time to explain later.

  “The branch. You threw that through the window?”

  “Yes,” she says, “now find a phone and call for help.”

  He finds his phone and he calls for an ambulance and the police and tells them they need to hurry. He’s told there are already police on the way to his location, and an ambulance too. They tell him Olillia called, and that she and Ruby are at the hospital, and that they heard his call a few minutes earlier. He tells them to hurry, and they tell him to stay on the line.

  Dr. Toni is leaning over Detective Vega, but it’s too dark for him to see clearly. “What can I do?” he asks her.

  “Find something to loosen the bolts on those shoes.”

  He leaves the phone on the floor. He finds a light switch. The cabin lights up and hurts his eyes. He retrieves the box wrenches from the utility room. In the light he can see how bad Vega looks. Her skin has gone gray. There’s blood everywhere. Dr. Toni is applying pressure to the wound in her chest.

  “Is she even still alive?” he asks.

  “Barely.”

  He loosens the bolts.

  “Leave the shoes on for the paramedics,” she says. “If you pull them out, it might speed up the amount of blood coming out of her feet. Can you drive?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “I came in the same car you waved down,” she says. “You’re going to have to move it so the ambulance can get past.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “You’re going to have to figure it out. Please, hurry.”

  He gets the keys out of the other man’s pocket. He runs out into the storm. The wind pushes at him. Once again he finds himself running. He keeps running until he reaches the car. He gets behind the steering wheel and is upset to find the car has a manual gear stick. He turns the key and the car lurches forward, almost throwing him into the steering wheel as the engine dies. The same thing happens when he tries it again. He presses down on the pedals and when he pushes on the left one and tries starting the car, it doesn’t lurch, and when he slowly pulls his foot away the car rolls, but then lurches again and the engine stalls.

  This is useless, he thinks. If Olillia were here, she’d be able to do it.

  Behind him, the flashing lights of an approaching police car.

  He gets out and waves his hands, not that they could have driven past anyway. The police officers step out of the car.

  “I’m Joshua Logan,” he says. “I’m the one who called.”

  “Whose car is that?” one of the officers asks.

  “It belongs to one of the dead men. Detective Vega has been shot. We have to get to the cabin.”

  “It’s up ahead?” the other officer asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Get into the passenger side,” the officer says, then the officer gets in behind the wheel and drives.

  It doesn’t take long for both cars to get there. Not even half a minute. Joshua explains quickly about the situation they’ll be driving into. Dr. Toni is still on the floor when they get there, still applying pressure to Detective Vega.

  “We’re losing her,” she says.

  The police officers quickly do what they can to help as Joshua stands back and watches. The storm continues to rage on outside, and somewhere out there is an ambulance making its way through it—he doesn’t see it getting here on time.

  He looks down at Gregory. There’s a huge dent in the side of his skull that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. There’s a pool of blood that also wasn’t there. He looks at his phone and sees that the call to the police department has been disconnected.

  Dr. Toni has done what he imagines his dad would have done.

  And he’s not real sure how he feels about that.

>   EPILOGUE

  The storm that hit the region on Tuesday lasted two days, and let up only last night. It tore through the city, ripping branches from trees and damaging houses; it pulled a roof partway off a supermarket and was the catalyst for dozens of fender benders. This morning, though, it’s all blue skies in every direction, which makes it hard for Joshua to believe the weather was so bad. But in its place came autumn. It couldn’t be any more evident out here in the cemetery where Joshua and Olillia are standing in the trees fifty yards back from the graveside holding hands, out of earshot of the funeral. The ground is awash with leaves, the winds and the cold have stripped the trees bare, and he remembers thinking recently how autumn could be a beautiful mess—whereas now it just looks like a mess.

  Joshua’s mom opted out—not only did she not want to come, but she didn’t want Joshua to go either. Neither of them would be welcome there, so she thought, and he had to agree—which is why he’s standing fifty yards back. The media are here, of course, hanging out on the fringes getting footage as they try connecting the dots between those who died and those who killed, and as they question what made two mild-mannered men with no history of violence act in such violent ways.

  Joshua is struggling to come to terms with what his dad and his uncle were doing. It’s been a difficult few days, but his mom and Olillia have been helping him. To suddenly learn your dad is a serial killer . . . It’s a crass label, but the sad truth is it’s also an accurate one. His dad was killing people, and even though they were bad people and he was doing it to help those who were good, it still makes him a serial killer. Perhaps when Uncle Ben is out of the hospital, Joshua can talk to him about it, and perhaps he can find a way to make peace with it. The media haven’t made the connection between Gregory King and Dustin Moore and the fact that they were both organ recipients, but Joshua suspects it’s only a matter of time. These men had been sick, and they were cured, only to have the cure make them a different kind of sick. If investigators do make the connection, they may also link it to what his dad and Uncle Ben were doing. He isn’t sure if Detective Vega will say anything. He doesn’t think so, though he hasn’t gone to the hospital to see her yet. With each passing day, Joshua thinks it’s becoming more likely she won’t report Uncle Ben to their superiors.