The Harvesting

by Melanie Karsak

  I hopped on the snowmobile and headed back across town. I took a short-cut through a field near the Fletchers’ farm. As I crossed, I saw something strange in the middle of the field. In the dim light, I saw a figure standing waist deep in the snow. I turned the snowmobile toward it. The headlight of the snowmobile revealed it was one of the undead. I pulled to a stop as I approached him. It was bitterly cold, the temperature well below zero. The creature was frozen in the snow, but little by little, it was forcing itself to turn and face me. Its arms seemed to have been frozen into position. With great effort, it turned its head just slightly to look at me. I could hear it make a sound like a breath.

  I recognized Clark, the boy who’d helped me at the grocery store the day I’d arrived, at once. His skin was frozen stiff, but I could still make out his face. Clark lived down by the lake. What was he doing out here?

  I unzipped my jacket just enough to pull the gun from its holster. I shivered as the wind hit me and wished for a moment I still had on my old sweatshirt.

  “Sorry, Clark,” I said, and taking aim, I shot him in the head, sending frozen chunks of blood and brains onto the snow. They fell like crimson colored petals on the pure white canvas. The body, though momentarily rocked by the gunshot, remained frozen in place.

  I holstered the gun. I wondered if Santa was fighting his way through the undead this year as well. I turned the snowmobile and headed home.

  Back at the cabin, I stashed the sweaters for Ian and Frenchie then handed my backpack full of gifts to Frenchie who smiled thankfully at me. The girls were excited to show me their Christmas tree ornaments. The small pine tree glimmered in the firelight. Their sweet, creative minds had made a masterpiece out of a trash pile.

  “Beautiful, just beautiful,” I whispered to them, kissing each on the cheek.

  “Ohh, this is nice,” Susan said, feeling the cashmere sweater.

  “This too,” Kira said, running her hand across the smooth black satin camisole that stuck out of the back of my pants.

  “Okay girls,” Frenchie said. She eyed me over. “Make-up too,” she observed, “and perfume. You do look nice. Now, question is, where did you go?” she asked with a grin.

  “Where do you think?”

  “If you’re using your head, then I know where you went.”

  “Mommy, you’re funny. Layla always uses her head. It’s right here,” Kira said, patting me on the top of my head.

  “There’s your answer,” I said with a laugh.

  The next morning I woke to the best sound I had heard in months: the girl’s excited laugher. I stumbled out of bed to find the girls in a heap of gifts, tiaras on their heads.

  “Santa came!” Susan yelled. The girls danced around excitedly. In that brief moment I saw something new: hope.

  Chapter 17

  When Ian arrived later Christmas day, I gave him his gift. He loved it, but he smiled abashedly, admitting he’d pretty much forgotten it was Christmas.

  Later, after we’d finished eating lunch and Ian was getting ready to head back into town, I asked him to stop by and check on Jamie. “He has the flu. He was looking pretty grim yesterday.”

  “You were by his place?” Ian asked. It was hard to miss the jealous tone in his voice.

  I saw Frenchie’s eyebrows rise, but she said nothing and continued to clear the dishes.

  I nodded and handed Ian the sweater. “Don’t forget your gift.”

  With a distracted smile, he stuffed it into his bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We need to start planning the New Year’s Eve party,” he said. Unconsciously, he leaned in to kiss me. I turned my cheek.

  Looking embarrassed, Ian gave me a light peck and then turned to leave.

  “Be careful,” I called as he stepped out onto the porch. He waved, jumped onto his snowmobile, and left, closing and locking the gate behind him.

  I closed the front door, sliding the bars into place.

  I turned to find Frenchie looking at me. She was grinning.

  “Well, spit it out,” I told her.

  She shrugged. “You’re using your head,” she said with a grin and went into the kitchen.

  Ian returned the next day with the news that Jamie had started feeling better. I was relieved. We then got to work planning the New Year’s Eve party. I was hyper-aware of the fact that Ian had plans, and not just for the party. I would be his friend, I would forgive him for the past, but that was all there could be between us. Ian and I had nothing in common, no connection except our shared past. When I first arrived I thought I wasn’t over him, but the more time I spent with him I realized I had buried any real feelings long ago. I did not love him anymore. It seemed that Ian, on the other hand, thought the end of days had given him the chance to live a life almost missed. His misguided hope was becoming a problem.

  “Hey, I have other news for you,” Ian said.

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Kiki and Gary finally had some luck with that radio.”

  “Really?”

  “They were able to pick up a signal and communicated for just a minute with someone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I guess someone asked where we were. They were able to give our location, but they couldn’t get the signal to come back in again.”

  “At least we know we aren’t the only ones still alive,” I replied. “Maybe in the spring we can consider looking for other survivors.

  Ian nodded.

  In that same moment I noticed how tired he looked. Ian was not well and had started to look gaunt. Though he said he was fine, it was clear that he was having pain in his stomach. His meals became smaller and less frequent. When I tried to get him to eat more, he always said “leave it for the girls.” I didn’t buy it and as every day passed, I started to worry more.

  Just after Christmas, Ian and I let the others know our idea about the party. At first people seemed resistant, but after a little convincing, the idea grew on them. Frenchie, Ian, and I, and a handful of others, spent two days reorganizing and decorating the elementary school gym. While Grandma’s warning to be watchful was ever-present in my mind, the cold winter weather seemed to have ground to a stop the movement of the undead. With the exception of finding Clark in the Fletchers’ field, it had been weeks since anyone had seen anything.

  On New Year’s Eve day, residents who could stand the cold weather were brought in by snowmobile or horse-drawn sled for the party. It turned out that the “decorative” Victorian era sled that had sat in the post-office lobby longer than I could remember still worked. With a little reconfiguring, Fred Johnson had gotten it running again. They’d managed to lasso in the Fletchers’ horses, and Fred had become the town taxi-driver.

  “Looks beautiful,” Summer gushed when she entered the gym. We’d found supplies from a recent prom whose theme had been something celestial. The entire place was decorated with silver crepe, stars, and moons. It was not overly done, just enough to make the event feel festive. Summer looked at least twenty pounds lighter. Her mother, who had always had dark-brown hair, had gone completely gray.

  “I only had one bottle of dye left,” she told me when she saw me looking at her hair. “I wanted to save it for when we are rescued,” she explained with a laugh.

  Rescued by whom, I wondered.

  The others slowly trickled in. By the dinner hour there were thirty five of us. Harkening back to older and happier days, we shared food, eating at a long table in the middle of the room.

  Jamie was one of the last to arrive. I heard his snowmobile buzz in. Moments later he entered, smiling, a large bag strapped to his back. I could tell he was up to something. I rose and fixed him a plate. He had just finished taking off his winter gear when I came up to him.

  “This enough for you?” I asked, holding up the heaping plate of food.

  He looked at it and me. “Who could ask for more?” He set the bag down and joined us at the table.

  Ian was talking to Dusty and pushing his food
from one side of the plate to another.

  Jamie sat down and rubbed his hands together as he eyed over the plate. I slid into the seat beside him. He was about to dig in when he looked at his brother.

  “Hey Ian, stop yapping and eat something,” he said.

  Surprised, Ian looked up. He said nothing, only nodded, and took a large bite of food. I turned to Jamie, wanting to share my worries about Ian’s health, but something told me that he might not take my concern as intended.

  “What did you make, Layla?” Jamie asked, turning back to his food.

  I watched him eat a spoonful of beans. “The beans,” I replied.

  He stopped for a moment and then chewed thoughtfully. “Hey, they are actually good.”

  Ethel, who had listened to the exchange, laughed.

  Jamie looked inquisitively at her.

  I smiled. “Ethel made those. I made the rice.”

  He looked down at his place. “I don’t have any.”

  I laughed. “I know.”

  Several people around us chuckled, and I noticed then that no one had eaten the rice. Well, at least I had tried. I would remember, in the future, not to waste supplies with my weak attempts at cooking.

  As the light began to wane, Tom and Mr. Jones disappeared. A few minutes later there was a strange humming sound. A back-up generator kicked on. The emergency lights in the gymnasium cast a soft orange glow. Summer and several of the others had lit candles Pastor Frank had brought with him. The room had a magical glow.

  We had raided the liquor store and cases of champagne sat cooling outside. In the meantime, people were drinking wine and bottles of beer. Keeping Grandma’s warning to be ever-watchful in mind, I didn’t touch a drop. Others, however, did not hold back, and soon rowdy laughter filled the room.

  Jamie, who’d also gone missing, finally reappeared with a cart on top of which he had something hidden under a sheet. Taking the cart to the end of the room, he pulled off the sheet to reveal an old gramophone. Jamie pulled out a record and put it on the player; he then wound the old machine. Dropping the needle, the gymnasium filled with the sound of 1920s big band music.

  The stunned room fell silent. The music echoed.

  The stir of mixed emotions in the room was palpable. Not sure what else to do, I went to Jamie and grabbed his hand. With a spin, he turned me onto the floor, and we broke out into dance.

  The room fell into a clapping cheer and soon nearly everyone joined us.

  “You’re amazing,” I told Jamie. “Where did you get that?”

  “Don’t you remember? It was in the library.”

  I smiled at him, and we moved across the floor grinning at one another. I felt like I was in a strange limbo in time. While I had refused to wear the big bird dress, I did manage to shop-lift a new coffee-colored satin halter gown from Lil’s shop.

  Jamie smiled as he spun me, the cheerful gramophone music inspiring our steps. “You look beautiful, but I’m not sure if those accessories match,” he said.

  I had to laugh. While I wanted to look nice, I was also pragmatic so had worn my knee-high steel-toed winter boots and my guns were holstered, my sword belted. “Never know when you’ll need to kick ass,” I said with a smile.

  “So it seems Santa and his elves were at my house.”

  “Oh really?”

  “I had this strange dream that an angel came in and took care of me. I woke to find my house clean, soup warming by the fire, and the heavenly smell of perfume in the air.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what that perfume was, but it was amazing. I plan to buy stock in it.”

  “The stock market doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “Ahh, that’s right, I forgot,” he said with a laugh. “I also found a very unique gift.” He pulled out his hunting knife. On the leather strap tied to the hilt he’d strung the small pendant I’d left wrapped in the blue napkin. “Is this the one from the Fisherman’s Wharf? The one the sea captain statue at the entryway was wearing on his hat? You remember, I asked the owner at the Wharf to sell it to me. That was right after I got back from Iraq.”

  “How should I know? Santa must have left it for you.”

  Just then the record stopped. Jamie paused to change records, rewinding the gramophone, and we started to dance again. This time the music was slow. The sweet gramophone music filled the space; I could hear everyone’s happy, excited voices.

  “Why did you like that pendant so much anyway?” I asked, taking the knife from him and looking at the pendant.

  “One day, while my unit was out patrolling, I saw this symbol carved in stone on one of the buildings. I stopped to look at it. An old beggar was sitting there. He asked me if I knew what the symbol was. He told me it was called the flower of life and that it represents all life—us, the spirit world, everything--our interconnectedness. After that, I started seeing it everywhere. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it here, in Hamletville, at the Wharf. Santa was really nice to remember I liked it.”

  “Well, Santa is good at remembering important things.”

  A strong wind blew, causing the back door in the gymnasium to pop wide open. Everyone paused, and the two men on guard checked it out.

  “Clear. Only the wind,” Jensen called.

  The mood returned to a happy one a moment later. Almost everyone was dancing now, the lights in the room casting long shadows on the walls.

  “I have something for you as well. It’s a little late, but I wanted to give it to you myself.”

  Jamie handed me a small package wrapped in a cloth. From inside I pulled out a plastic squirt gun. It was filled with water. I was puzzled.

  Jamie laughed at my expression. “There’s holy water inside,” he explained. “I stopped by the church and filled it.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “I don’t know why Grandma Petrovich wanted you to have holy water, but your grandma understood things better than anyone I ever knew. I figured I’d back her up on this one.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a chuckle, putting my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around him.

  I felt him stiffen a little, but then he relaxed, pulling me tight against him.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the beating of his heart. It was all I wanted to hear.

  When I opened my eyes again, I thought I saw a strange face in the crowd. Just for a moment, a thin, pale, and angry looking male face appeared amongst us. I pulled back to look more closely, but where I thought I had seen something, I now saw nothing. Shadows of dancing couples moved across the walls, but amongst the shadows I saw more figures than were actually in the room. Frantically, I looked around at the dancing couples but saw nothing unusual. All around me were the same faces I had seen over the last five months. Again, I looked at the shadows on the wall. Fast, shadowy images intermixed with those of the townspeople. I turned and saw another face, a female, who I did not know amongst the crowd. She was similar in appearance to the man. I strained to get a better look, but she disappeared. I stepped back from Jamie and pulled my gun from its holster.

  “What is it?” Jamie whispered in alarm.

  I looked around the room, a gun in one hand, the other on the hilt of my sword. A second later, the wind blew the door open again. At that same moment, the generator failed. The lights dimmed with a fading buzz leaving only candle-light. Cold wind gusted through the place, blowing out the candles nearest the door. I left Jamie’s side. Grabbing a flashlight, I stood in the doorway and flashed the light on the parking lot outside.

  Overhead, the moon was full. It cast long shadows. The bare trees made claw-like images on the snowy ground. I pulled my coat off the wall and went outside, Jamie following fast behind me.

  I snapped the flashlight off and pulled out my sword. I stood still, my eyes adjusting to the moonlight. I scanned the horizon. Nothing.

  “What is it?” Jamie whispered.

  I looked back. Several people stood in the gymnasium door looking ou
t.

  I said nothing but walked to the small slope at the side of the school. From there I could see much of the town and the frozen lake below. Jamie walked wordlessly beside me.

  I stood on the hill overlooking the town below and scanned the vista.

  A second later, I saw it—them--something.

  “There,” I whispered to Jamie. I pointed my sword in the direction of the lake where strange shadowy images appeared to flee across the frozen ice. “Do you see that?” I asked him.

  He was silent.

  I watched the shadows retreat until I saw nothing more.

  “Did you see that?” I asked him again, thinking maybe Grandma Petrovich’s mushrooms had made me go half-crazy.

  I looked up at the still-silent Jamie. The startled look on his face told me he had seen it too.

  “Layla--” he began.

  “I know.”

  “What was it?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Well, what did you see?”

  Indeed, what did I see? I was not exactly certain, but when I looked up at Jamie one answer came clearly to mind: “Danger.”

  We stood wordlessly for a long time. Fear had frozen me in place.

  Reassured by the lack of gunfire, happy sounds resumed inside the gym. A short while later, we heard the crowd counting down to midnight. Then there was a raucous cheer. It was a new year. They broke into a round of Auld Lang Syne. It shook me from the terror that had seized my throat.

  I looked up at Jamie. He had a confused expression on his face.

  I reached up and stroked his cheek. “I love you.”

  He looked as if I had startled him from dark thoughts. He paused a moment and then leaned in and kissed me deeply. “I love you too,” he whispered in my ear as he crushed me against him.

  Together, we turned to go back to the gym.

  Ian’s shadowed figure was in the doorway.

  Jamie paused.

  Ian turned and walked back into the building.

  “He’ll accept, in time,” I said.

  Jamie did not look sure.