Evil Harvest

by Anthony Izzo

The kid had responded “I don’t know” to most of his questions before becoming agitated and telling Clarence to take a walk. Clarence was dressed in jeans and a plain blue tee, out of his uniform. The kid failed to notice the shield clipped to his belt, as well as the automatic holstered at his side. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

  Clarence was about to turn and go when an old man in a John Deere hat with saggy, wrinkled skin spoke up. “Hear you’re looking for owners to cabins. There’s two in town here. One’s owned by George Grey. Fella named Pierce owns the other one. Out of towner.”

  After getting directions to both cabins, he left, flashing the punk behind the counter a dirty look.

  He had called Linda at the station and asked her to look up the names in the phone book, and sure enough, Harry Pierce lived right in Lincoln. Linda also told him that her sister knew Liza, Harry’s wife, and that they owned the gun shop in town.

  That could be important, because they could be armed to the teeth up there.

  Now, he continued climbing until he was a hundred yards from the cabin, then he flattened himself out against the earth and took out a small pair of binoculars.

  A squirrel bounced across his path, making him flinch. “Fucker,” he said.

  He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and scanned from left to right. There were two pickup trucks parked next to the cabin, a Ford and the Chevy Rafferty had described to him. No one in sight yet, though.

  After watching on and off for five minutes, someone stepped from the front door, a tough-looking broad with short blond hair. She had a shotgun cocked under one arm, pointing at the ground, and she seemed comfortable with it.

  He wondered what other weapons they had in the cabin.

  An older fat guy came out to join her, and he had a funny-looking gun in his hand. Clarence wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be a grenade launcher.

  Rafferty would appreciate this reconnaissance. He’d better.

  The squirrel darted in front of him again, and he was half tempted to put a round in its hide.

  Damn, he hated the woods.

  He watched the blond woman again, and this time she seemed to be looking at him, as if she had spotted him.

  He made himself one with the forest floor, pressing tight against the dirt.

  BOOK THREE

  Harvest

  CHAPTER 25

  Donna had agreed to keep watch out front while Harry and Matt set up some of the defenses.

  They had all agreed to try and stop the Harvest, and all four would stay at the cabin tonight, even if it meant fending off an attack.

  She focused her attention back on the pine trees. It was amazing how little light filtered through them, making them seem like the woods of Hansel and Gretel and all the other fairy tales meant to scare children. The deep, dark woods where witches and big bad wolves waited to snap up little kids.

  There was a shape on the ground a hundred yards away, but Donna couldn’t tell if it was a log, an animal carcass or a person. Would they be so bold to send someone up here? Knowing Rafferty’s arrogance she answered her own question; she was surprised Rafferty didn’t come and knock on the door himself.

  She stuck her head inside the cabin and motioned for Harry to come out. He was in the midst of prying the top off of a crate with a crowbar, his face getting redder by the second.

  He pushed himself up off of one knee and instinctively grabbed the grenade launcher off the table. Maybe he sensed something was wrong too.

  “What’s up?”

  “Take a look down there, about a hundred yards.”

  She pointed to the general area and Harry squinted.

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Maybe a log, maybe a visitor.”

  He moved his head forward and used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Too dark to tell for sure. Unless we go down there.”

  “What if it’s a trap?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. It’s probably nothing, but if we go down there, we could be ambushed. Keep watch. We’re gonna have to hustle to get this stuff ready.”

  Harry trotted back into the cabin.

  Donna hunkered down like a catcher, the shotgun resting across her knees.

  They wouldn’t attack this early, this time of day, would they?

  They had seen him. He knew it.

  Now the blond lady was squatting down, and he could feel her gaze on him. Why hadn’t he been more careful?

  He took another look through the field glasses, confident the woods were dark enough not to reflect light off the lenses. Her head turned back toward the cabin, as if someone was calling her, and then she stood up and went through the door.

  This was his chance. He could go back down the hill, get in the unmarked and take off, or he could cut farther up the hill and flank the cabin, getting a better look at everything. He really didn’t have enough information to bring back to Rafferty, just that they had a shotgun and a grenade launcher. They could have a howitzer set up behind the cabin for all he knew, and when the attack came, he and the others could be devastated.

  No, he needed to bring more information back to Rafferty.

  He got to his feet, brushed the dirt off of his jeans and started up the hill and to the left of the cabin.

  Matt wiped his forehead with the front of his shirt. He was up in the cabin’s crawl space, which was accessed by sliding away a wood panel in the ceiling and lowering a ladder. He hadn’t even noticed it when he and Jill had arrived at the cabin.

  He was hunched over, the roof joists six inches from his head. It was full of spider- and cobwebs, and he had squashed a pile of mouse droppings upon stepping into the crawl space.

  The M-60 was a bitch to get up into the crawl space, and Matt hoisted it up with one arm while gripping the ladder rungs with the other. Jill had passed him up the ammunition, which made him think of “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.” He had snickered to himself and when Jill asked what was so funny, he said, “Nothing.”

  After pounding on the small window, he managed to open it, and set the stand for the machine gun on the sill. It provided a good field of fire, and put the entire front area of the cabin within the gun’s range. Because it was so cramped, he would lie on his stomach the length of the crawl space to fire the weapon.

  He hoped that the gun would pack enough punch to kill those things.

  From downstairs, Harry said, “Matt, come down for a second.”

  He backed himself up and climbed down the ladder.

  Matt brushed himself off and a tiny dust cloud appeared around him, like Pigpen in the Peanuts comic strips.

  “There might be a scout out in the woods. What do you think about taking a walk down?” Harry asked

  “It might be an ambush. Or it might be nothing,” Matt said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Harry said. “Whoever they are, they won’t learn much. Except I do have one more thing to show you, but that’s out back.”

  Harry jerked his thumb toward the back wall of the cabin.

  “I say we keep a constant watch,” Jill said.

  “Yeah,” Donna agreed.

  Matt nodded in agreement with them.

  “We’ll take shifts. I’ll keep the first watch. Someone can relieve me in an hour,” Donna said.

  Jill agreed to take the second watch, Matt the third, and Harry the fourth.

  Harry slapped his forehead. “Son of a bitch! I almost forgot!”

  They all looked at him as if he were an escaped lunatic. At first Matt thought it would be really bad news, like Harry forgot the magazines for the M-16s or worse, forgot the grenades for the launchers, which would be one of their most effective weapons.

  “The fires. There were at least a dozen houses set on fire last night. In Lincoln. There were fatalities. I heard it on the scanner.”

  “Addresses?” Matt said.

  “All over the place. Jimbo’s gas station went up too.”

  “I’d bet a dime to a dollar that Raf
ferty and his crew were responsible,” Jill said.

  “If there were only some way to find out,” Matt said.

  If he had to guess, he would say that Sally Perski and Lila Reese were two of the victims whose houses went up in flames. Rafferty wouldn’t want family members or witnesses snooping around and leaking his secrets out, so he most likely had killed them.

  “Without being in town, it’s pretty impossible,” Harry said.

  The young girl, Sally, had seemed like a nice kid, and although Matt hadn’t particularly cared for Lila Reese, he felt sorrow for her too. Two more innocent people murdered by that son of a bitch. “I was just thinking that Sally Perski and Lila Reese are probably two of the victims.”

  “More cover-ups,” Donna said, shaking her head.

  Matt said, “As sad as it is, we can’t let it distract us. They could come for us at any time. Jill and I are putting you two in harm’s way. Are you sure you want to stick around?”

  “I’ve got nothing to lose at this point. If I can deal out some payback, then so be it,” Donna said.

  “And I’ve been preparing for the Harvest for years. I was gonna tangle with them sooner or later,” Harry added.

  “Besides, we couldn’t leave the two of you to the wolves, could we?” Donna said.

  There weren’t many people who would stick beside you when the proverbial shit hit the fan, and the fact that Matt had found three of them made him believe that there were still decent people in the world. They were around, but you just had to look a little harder to find them.

  Jill gave Donna a hug, who accepted it awkwardly, and then kissed Harry on his cheek. His face immediately turned the color of a Valentine’s Day heart.

  Harry said, “Enough with the mushy stuff. We’ve got preparations to make. Jill and Matt, follow me. Donna, keep your eyes peeled. And take one of the M-16s. It has better range than that shotgun.”

  Harry seemed to be hitting his stride, and Matt could imagine him twenty-five years younger and a hundred pounds lighter, a lean, tight leader of men, barking orders and doing his best to fight a lost cause. He was in his element.

  “You’re forgetting something,” Donna said. “I don’t know how to fire one of these. Especially the grenade launcher.”

  “Oh yeah. Jill, you watch this too.”

  Harry took the gun from Donna and gave an impromptu lesson on putting in a clip and firing the M-16, and loading and firing the grenade launcher. It took fifteen minutes.

  “Got all that? It ain’t that hard.”

  Donna and Jill nodded in assent. Harry took one of the M-16s and handed it to Jill.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Target practice. Let’s go.”

  They followed him out the back door of the cabin and Donna went out the front to stand watch.

  The sun hit them in the face as they entered the backyard.

  The gun in Jill’s arms was bigger than she imagined; the ones on television and in the movies seemed like toys compared to the one she was actually holding. She had to admit she felt safer carrying it around and, although she would never tell anyone, it made her feel powerful.

  Matt carried one of the Defender shotguns, and Harry the grenade launcher. They followed him to the trail behind the cabin, a ragtag little squad hoping to hold out against a powerful enemy. She began to understand how Davy Crockett and his crew at the Alamo must have felt.

  They made their way down the path, Harry in front, Jill in the middle, and Matt bringing up the rear. Harry scanned left and right, watching the woods for any signs of movement.

  They came to a small clearing, a shaft of sunlight sneaking through the pines, the morning mist burning in the sunbeam.

  Harry stepped ahead of them, into the middle of the clearing, and began stomping his foot on the ground. He breathed in sighing gasps, running out of wind.

  At last his foot struck metal, and a hollow clang reverberated through the forest.

  He bent down and clawed at the dirt, grabbing handfuls and tossing them aside.

  “Aha! You two come here.”

  Jill glanced at Matt, who looked as puzzled as she felt.

  They joined Harry, Matt kneeling and Jill bent over at the waist.

  He had scraped away the dirt to reveal what looked at first like more dirt, but then Harry pinched a piece of brown cloth between his fingers and lifted it slightly. She realized it was camouflage for something underground.

  Pulling a corner of the cloth away, he revealed a flat piece of brown metal.

  He knocked on it; it sounded like a steel drum.

  “Escape route. And shelter. There’s two doors under here, like storm cellar doors.”

  “And under the doors?” Jill said.

  “A concrete bomb shelter, and a tunnel leading to the cabin. There’s a trapdoor under the throw rug.”

  “You’re full of surprises, Harry,” Jill said.

  “Thank you,” Harry said.

  “Were you expecting a nuclear holocaust anytime soon?” Matt said.

  “No, big mouth. But my dad did. He had it built right after the Cuban missile crisis. I improved on it after September 11. I wanted to have a place to retreat to if I needed. If they come and get in close to the cabin, this is a way out. It’s only a hundred feet from the cabin, so it might not give us much time, but it’s better than nothing. C’mon, I’ll take you down.”

  He grunted and pushed himself to his feet.

  They started out of the clearing and headed back toward the cabin.

  The fat guy, a girl and a younger guy were looking at something on the ground, but what?

  Clarence had parked himself behind a tree trunk, ducking out with the binoculars and snatching quick looks at the trio in the woods. There were at least four of them, counting the blond woman he’d seen before, and they looked like they were well armed. That shouldn’t matter, because Rafferty was planning on twelve of them coming up here to attack the cabin. Twelve of his race versus four humans was no contest, heavy armament or not. Still, it helped to have all the intelligence you could gather on your enemy for the battle ahead.

  After the fat guy did some talking and pointing, they started back toward the cabin. What was under there? Mines? A booby trap? A pit for them to fall in?

  He would wait and find out.

  Before returning to the cabin, Harry had Jill practice shooting with the M-16, picking off beer bottles he’d arranged on a log. Matt had seen a lot worse shooting from raw Ranger recruits, and he thought that Jill would do okay. She hit three out of five bottles with her first try, and then went back and knocked off the other two.

  “We could’ve used you as a sharpshooter in ’Nam,” Harry said.

  “That’s pretty good shooting for your first time,” Matt said.

  “Yeah, except now my shoulder aches. What about the grenade launcher?”

  “We’ll only use that on the real enemy.”

  “Aw. I was kind of having fun.”

  Matt was surprised to see that she felt comfortable with the gun at all. Most people who’d never fired or held a gun treated it like a rattler that was about to bite them. Even though Jill was comfortable, Matt noticed she always kept the barrel pointed at the ground when carrying it. There was a saying that as long as you realized there was no such thing as an unloaded gun, you’d never have an accident. He was glad to see her treating it with respect.

  “You look pretty comfortable with that,” Matt said. “I’m surprised.”

  “Now why’d you say that? Is it because she’s a woman?” Harry said.

  “No. I’ve been opposed to guns all my life,” Jill replied. “My father was killed by one in a robbery. But in this case I almost feel safer with it. In a weird way it’s comforting.”

  She looked down at her feet, and Matt wondered if she wasn’t feeling a little ashamed, like she had betrayed herself by changing her stance on guns. He didn’t want her to feel that way, because this wasn’t an everyday situation. Creatures out of
a horror movie were most likely coming for them, and if they couldn’t fend them off, they were all going to die in unpleasant ways. The guns were a necessity.

  He sidled up to her and slipped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  “Let me show you the tunnel,” Harry said.

  Donna stood watch at the front of the cabin, the M-16 resting in the crook of her arm, the barrel hanging and pointing at the ground.

  “Anything new?” Matt said.

  “Nada.”

  She stood like an eagle looking to snare a rabbit, her eyes focused, watching every shadow in the forest. He was glad to have her on their side.

  Inside the cabin, Harry pulled the oval, rainbow-colored throw rug to the side, balling it up at the foot of the bed. Underneath was a four-by-four wooden trapdoor with an iron handle.

  Harry slipped his fingers under the ring, lifted it and pulled the trapdoor open.

  The smell of damp earth rose from the hole.

  Harry started down a small ladder.

  Matt peered over the edge of the hole to see Harry shining the light on his face, the way kids did when telling ghost stories. He almost expected Harry to yell, “Boo!”

  “Call Donna in here too.”

  “She should stay on guard,” Matt said.

  “Follow me, then,” Harry said.

  They followed Harry down the ladder into the cool, moist earth. The chamber at the bottom of the ladder allowed them to stand at full height, but they had to duck under the concrete that jutted out from the tunnel’s ceiling.

  The three of them hunched over, following Harry down the concrete tunnel. As they progressed, Harry’s heavy breathing echoed in the tunnel.

  They came to a set of double steel doors painted olive green.

  “Stand back. I haven’t opened her in a while.”

  Tucking the flashlight under his chin, he gripped the handle and pulled as hard as he could. Even in the dim light, Matt could see a vein bulging in Harry’s temple. He hoped Harry didn’t put too much pressure on the old plumbing and blow a gasket. That would be all they needed.