The Harvest

by Anne Ferretti

  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.

  The kitchen was dominated by a large granite island. Five stools sat empty on one side. A sixth stool had been knocked over. Without conscious thought as to why he bothered, Edward righted the sixth stool. At least there were no dead bodies in here. Relief settled in, even if only reserved for this one detail. He shed his gloves and scarf.

  A full pot of coffee was too tempting to pass up. He poured a cup and warmed it in the microwave. He rummaged through the refrigerator, found the bagels and cream cheese. While he waited on the bagel to toast, he turned on the TV, flipped past programmed shows to the news channels. Static and white noise was all he got. He clicked the off button.

  Silence closed in, heavy and deafening.

  He clicked the TV back on, and flipped to a rerun of ‘Two and Half Men’. He stared at the screen, but didn’t see the actors. The bagel popped up, startling him. He grabbed the two halves, quickly dropped them on a paper towel. He spread a generous portion of cream cheese on each half, picked one up, and took a bite. His actions were mechanical and precise in nature.

  Each chew, each bite, each swallow was given his undivided attention. The simple everyday tasks had become his protector. They kept the more complicated issues at bay. Issues like why no one answered when he called the police or nine-one-one. Or where everyone had disappeared to. And the more obvious and pressing matter of who was ripping people apart and stealing their organs.

  Of course all of these issues didn’t amount to squat in light of his most important question that he didn’t have an answer for and he refused his mind to give one. So the crucial aspect of his focus on the mundane prevented hysteria from making an appearance. An unwelcomed guest for certain, one that took over the party and stayed long after everyone else went home.

  With a refill of hot coffee in hand, Edward returned to the living room. Along the way he bumped up the thermostat to eighty degrees. He surveyed the furniture until his eyes came to rest on an oversized leather recliner. He set his coffee down. With some pushing and shoving the chair was maneuvered into a corner, out of sight from anyone that might peek through the cracks of the shutters.

  Edward settled into the chair, coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other. He took a few sips of the coffee. Soon his eyelids began to droop. He set the cup on the floor, leaned back and closed his eyes. His chest moved up and down in a rhythmic pattern.

  An hour later Jenni and Ryan paid a visit to Edward. Jenni gave Ryan a piggy back ride. They ran into a mountain of leaves and disappear from his sight. Edward’s chest tightened. He ran into the pile after them, but the leaves had the consistency of mud after a rain shower and clung to his hands and face. The harder he tried to swim through the pile the thicker the leaves became. He fell to his knees and clawed his way through, stopping when his hand landed on a foot.

  The leaves disappeared leaving two small piles. Edward didn’t want to look at those piles. He already knew who was lying underneath and he didn’t need confirmation of sight, but his subconscious was controlling this show, commanding him to look. He reached out. His fingers seemed a far distance from his face. He touched the leaves and they fell away. Ryan stared up at him.

  Edward did the same to the second pile, and found Jenni. At first he felt elated. He tossed handful of leaves from Jenni and Ryan, but stopped when a single drop of blood fell onto his bare foot. The leaves fell from his hand, his eyes moved in slow motion over the naked body of his wife. He stopped where the blood began.

  In his chair Edward gripped the arms, his nails digging into the leather. He yelled out. The sound of his voice woke him and he bolted from the chair, hands up in a defensive position. There was no one in the room. He listened to the house. All was quiet. He lowered his hands, the dream faded and awareness returned.

  Dusk was upon him. In a few minutes it would be completely dark outside. Panic ensued as he realized he couldn’t walk home, not in this weather, not in the dark with a maniac on the loose, but what if Jenni and Ryan came back? What if Ryan came home alone and Edward wasn’t there? Did he lock the door before he left? Will his son be able to get in the house? Panic seized his chest, began to squeeze reason out.

  “Pull it together Edward.” He demanded out loud. “What are you a man or a cupcake?” He repeated the infamous words of his father, the late Joseph Edward McGrath.

  “I’m a man dad.” He answered his dad.

  “Good, because this world’s already full of cupcakes. It don’t need no more.” Edward nodded in agreement.

  “I don’t know what to do.” He hung his head, feeling utterly alone.

  ‘Don’t know what to do? Hogwash. Use that mush between your ears to come up with a solution to this deeply pickled situation. Ain’t never been in a pickle I couldn’t reason my way out of. You just need to man up son and get to thinkin’.

  “Right.” And his father was always right. A little reason added to the recipe was a sure way to guarantee perfect results every time. Edward knew it was the one ingredient he needed for his survival.

  With the house covered in darkness, Edward moved through the rooms at a slow pace. He debated over using lights for several minutes. He didn’t want to attract the wrong attention, but worried someone alive might seek refuge. In the end he decided lights were too risky. Using a flashlight he found in the kitchen, he navigated to a bathroom. After washing his face, he rubbed toothpaste across his teeth and rinsed with mouthwash.

  Edward returned to the leather chair, stretched out under a blanket and watched the shadows. He closed his eyes. After what seemed like mere seconds of time gone by, Edward’s eyes snapped open. His watch indicated he’d been asleep for three hours. He lay there listening to the silence. Outside the window he thought he heard something heavy fall or drop on the snow near the window. Not
daring to move, Edward lay still and waited. Farther away from the house he heard a crash and then another. At each explosion of noise he flinched. He couldn’t know then the cause, but when he investigated the next morning, he would discover the awful truth.

  9 SECTION SEVEN

  The lights in the concrete room went out, leaving it near dark with only a few small emergency lights glowing high above. Eve didn’t care about the lights. Her vision was exceptional day or night.

  Outside her prison the girls moved about. Soon a flashlight came on and then another. Whispers about vampires and shape changers were exchanged. Someone flashed a beam of light in her direction, making sure she was still behind the glass. She’d been called a vampire many times, as far back as 70 B.C., but did not know if she was one or a descendent of one.

  The stories she heard about vampires changed over the centuries and many of the details didn’t ring true. She’d been inside various sacred places and even touched holy water without peril. Although she preferred the night, she could walk in the sunlight the same as a human. The one detail remaining constant over time was the vampire’s need for blood. This one commonality, passed down from generation to generation, gave her pause to consider the possibility that her kind may have flourished on Earth once upon a time.

  Eve walked up to the glass wall facing the girls. For selfish reasons she liked having them near, being able to smell their blood and knowing, if the need arose, her life source was in close range. She amused herself by watching and listening to them. Although she herself never did anything note worthy, she found them staring in her direction quite often.

  One of the younger girls had attempted to engage in a conversation by asking Eve her name and where she was from. The girl was quickly admonished by an older girl and dragged back to her cot. Eve would have enjoyed listening to the girl, whose name was Charlie. A human with an intelligent mind was always worth her time.