The Harvest (Book 2): Eve of Man

by Anne Ferretti

  ***

  The next day the entire group joined together again at the cemetery in Pueblo. Austin covered Luke’s coffin with an L.S.U. blanket before Zack lowered him into the ground. His grave was next to Madison’s. Everyone took a turn throwing a handful of frozen dirt onto the coffin and saying goodbye. When it was Ed’s turn, Jenny walked by his side, holding him steady. Ryan held his dad’s hand and cried, not from his own grief, but because he felt his father’s pain and it was overwhelming. Ed knelt next to the grave, silently crying, staring down at the coffin wondering if they made the right choice. Jenny’s hand rested on his shoulder, providing him the strength to not fall apart.

  After they’d left, Austin stood alone at the gravesite lost in grief, shrouded in blackness. He sank to the ground, his eyes dry, but his heart aching a thousand times over. The wind wailed for him. The cold embraced his wretchedness. None of it mattered anymore, nothing mattered anymore. He’d fought all along the way to keep Luke safe, to keep Madison safe, but in the end he’d failed. In the end he wouldn’t be able to protect any of them. The hard truth of their situation numbed him. He had nothing left to give.

  Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  A thought spun around in his mind like a leaf spinning along in a brisk wind. The thought found a place to land in the murkiness shrouding his conscience. Slowly an idea took hold, and then hooked his full attention. He knew what must be done.

  25 Point of No Return

  A custom designed Piper Seneca warmed up at the end of the only runway in Pueblo’s small airport. The plane was somewhat of a celebrity in pre-Sundog days thanks to a philandering senator who desired to impress his latest girlfriend and had more money than sense. The wife discovered her husband’s toy and, unfortunately for the plane, managed to spray paint the word WHORE in bold red letters on both wings. It was the biggest scandal in Pueblo history and remained a front page story for several weeks. Ignoring the tasteless graffiti, the plane was an impressive machine. Two 220 horsepower engines provided maximum power at a ceiling of 25,000 feet. This particular model was made for flying over mountainous areas and wide expanses of water, of which Austin would travelling.

  Austin sat in the cockpit half listening as Zack read over the basics from the owner’s manual. His thoughts were on his mission, which appeared less and less a search and find. Search and find because the idea that Eve and Caleb needed rescuing was solidifying into more of a fact than a hunch. He couldn’t ignore the warnings gnawing at him since Luke’s funeral.

  “What happens if you don’t come back?” Zack asked. Austin looked over at Zack, his expression hinted of defeat. Seeing vulnerability in Austin’s face scared the crap out of Zack. He started to get up, but a sinking feeling gripped his stomach. The real possibility that he might never see his friend again tightened around him like a giant vise. He sat back down and turned to Austin. “Their deaths weren’t your fault man.”

  Austin gripped the control wheel tighter. “It was my responsibility to keep them safe, to keep you all safe. I can’t do that anymore. I don’t know that I ever could.”

  “You’re not responsible for us. We’re all adults.”

  “It was my duty to protect you, to protect all civilians. I took an oath to put that duty above all else. And I failed,” Austin replied. “I put my feelings first.”

  Zack sighed in frustration. Blame for everything that had happened, and how fucked up their world had become, couldn’t be placed at one man’s feet, least of all Austin’s. “You can’t help who you love.”

  Austin shook his head. “It’s not Eve’s fault.”

  Zack frowned. Not Eve’s fault? But that wasn’t what he’d meant, so he wasn’t sure what to make of Austin’s statement. He didn’t press the issue.

  Austin changed the subject. “You know she was in love with you, Madison was. You made her very happy.”

  Zack stared at Austin and knew he was telling the truth, but couldn’t help the direction his thoughts went.

  “What she felt for me wasn’t love. It was something simple in its purity and dark in its nature. A darkness that wanted to possess her, but she refused to allow it. She fought the possession without even knowing she was in a battle for her soul. Madison was too good for this world we live in. She needed light to live by. You were her light. She chose you, she chose to love and to live in the light.”

  “What are you choosing?”

  “The only choice left to me.”

  The realization of what this meant flirted with Zack, but he didn’t want to believe, to acknowledge the meaning full on. “You don’t have to walk that road man.”

  “I do. I can’t exist in two worlds and be whole. I can’t succeed if I have only one foot in the fight. I must have both in. I must commit fully to one way or the other. Victory is lost without commitment, without sacrifice. The Adita know this. They live by this creed without fail. They never choose. For them there is but one choice.”

  “Well that blows, and the Adita blow,” Zack replied, wanting to say more, wanting to argue, but he knew Austin’s mind was set. Unable to stall his friend’s departure any longer Zack made his way to the exit, turning back one last time. “Come home ok?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Austin saluted him.

  Zack jumped out. As soon as he cleared the plane, Austin maneuvered around, taxied down the runway, picked up speed and took off into the gray sky. Zack shielded his eyes, watching the plane until it became a tiny speck on the horizon. He’d lost count of the number of times Austin had left to go on one mission or another, always returning in one piece with no more than minor scratches. But how long could one man’s luck run? Madison had said Austin didn’t believe in luck and maybe he didn’t, but whether it was luck or skill or a combination of the two, Zack hoped it continued to work in his friend’s favor.

  ***

  Ahead of Austin the sky was an endless expanse of gray, below the ground was not the usual patchwork blanket of farm lands and clusters of twinkling neighborhoods. Below was a mass of white, crisscrossed by the highways filled with abandoned vehicles holding the remains of the dead. Austin guided the plane along through the cloudless sky. He operated on instinct, on the foreign substance coursing through his blood. A power that supersized his abilities, his senses, allowing him to perform at a peak beyond that of even the most elite human beings.

  Life no longer made sense and despite the added energy, Austin felt exhausted. The strengths he’d come to rely on had failed him and he had failed his friends. Images of their faces at Madison’s funeral and then Luke’s, haunted him day and night. The overwhelming grief he’d caused everyone could have been avoided had he done the right thing, had he made the right decision when the opportunity was offered. And more than deciding wrong, the reason for his decision ate at him and was the cause of his exhaustion. Fear never drove him in the past, but he’d given in, allowed himself to be controlled by a lesser emotion. Lesser in its usefulness, but not in its power to drive a man in the wrong direction. Austin rubbed his head trying to clear his mind of the turmoil. Focus was key and something he never faltered in maintaining.

  “Tighten up man,” he ordered himself. The sound of his voice in the silence broke him free of his mind and he continued to talk out loud. “You got this buddy. Find Eve and Caleb. Make the right choice. Save your friends, save the world.” He nodded in agreement. “Pity is for the weak minded. You are not weak. You are a soldier. You are a Marine. You are proud, be proud.”

  Most men would have faltered under such pressure, giving in and up. Austin was not prone to wallowing for long or at all. He’d stared unblinking down the barrel of the many guns life had pointed at him. The Adita had simply pointed a bigger gun, one that had thrown him off balance and he’d blinked. For a lesser man blinking was an automatic response to adversity, failure was always the expected outcome. For an elite man, like Austin, blinking created a fissure weakening the barrier. For the toughest man, like Austin, that fissure was never allowed to gr
ow, to turn into a crack that broke the dam, and this time wasn’t going to be the exception.

  Where fear was debilitating, resolve was liberating and Austin had his resolve. He turned his thoughts on to the details of his plan. He’d reach Deadbear, Alaska before dark. Kyle had thought Alaska time was the same as anywhere else, that the amount of daylight was the same everywhere and it appeared this was true. At first light he would refuel and be on his way. The plane would serve as his hotel, as he had no desire to walk down memory lane, to see if his house was still standing. The sole reason for landing in Deadbear was his familiarity with the airstrip. Everything else there was dead to him.

  The airstrip brought a back memories Austin had buried, long ago. A source of income when he was nine, Austin had spent many hours at the airport pandering to whoever would glance in his direction. Most days he worked for the owner, a drunken bastard with a bum leg named Barney. Barney paid Austin less than shit wages to do all the shit jobs. Wash planes, clean grease spills, clean toilets, whatever Barney asked. Two quarters, maybe a dollar, were often the result of his efforts. Fifty cents bought him a bag of chips or a candy bar from the vending machine. Not enough to fill his empty stomach, let alone refuel after a day of hard work.

  Every so often a group of businessmen would arrive. On those days Austin made a fortune in tips carrying bags to and from. A fortune being twenty dollars. Twenty dollars turned into ten after Barney took his share. The remaining ten he hid from the old man. Ten he could stretch out for a month or more through strict frugality.

  On one occasion a group of men from Texas arrived. They planned to ride the Dalton Highway on motorcycle. Randy Westlake was one of these men. He wore a Texas sized cowboy hat and a belt buckle the diameter of a hub cap. He’d tipped Austin a ten spot and clapped him on the back like they were best buddies. Later, while cleaning the plane Austin had found that man’s wallet. He knew it was the Texan’s by the driver’s license picture. Austin tracked Randy down at the only hotel in town and returned the wallet. Randy, who only carried cash, was very, very appreciative. He tipped Austin two crisp fifty dollar bills, said to call him R.W. and invited him to stay for dinner. Austin enjoyed the best steak Deadbear had to offer. Prior to Eve arriving, Randy Westlake had been the one and only redeeming memory he had of his childhood.

  As Austin approached the runway of his home, old feelings surfaced bringing a rancid taste to his mouth. The wheels touched the icy ground and for a second he thought the plane would slide sideways off the runway. He willed the wheels to catch, to slow down, and for the plane to come to a stop in front of the lone hangar. He glanced over at the hangar wondering if Barney’s frozen corpse might still be inside. His eyes moved over to the fuel truck sitting cockeyed about twenty yards away. The cab looked to be empty.

  Leaving the plane running, Austin jumped out and checked the fuel truck. The tank was close to full, which was enough to get him to Russia and back. Packed in with his things was an additive Zack developed to cleanse fuel of debris. The chemicals were especially effective on fuel having sat for long periods of time. Austin dug this out and poured the gel like liquid into the fuel truck’s tank, then emptied the contents of the fuel truck into the plane. He glanced at the sky. The crescent suns had faded into the gray, which meant he had less than thirty minutes to wrap things up before the black curtain of night fell.

  Once the truck was moved safely out of the way, Austin went into the hangar through the personnel door, which opened up into a cramped office. A crappy faux wood desk took up one corner of the room. Stacks of paper covered every inch of the surface. Splayed over those stacks was Barney, or what was left of him, and what was left was more than should have been after more than a year of being dead, but the sub-zero temps were a rather effective inhibitor to decomposition.

  Austin recognized the pinky ring dangling on the bone of Barney’s right hand. The emerald sparkled in the beam of Austin’s flashlight. Barney prized that ring over most everything, his whiskey sours, his bowling ball and most of all over his snappy wife Vera. Austin never knew the story behind the ring, but he imagined it must have been a gift from a girlfriend. He knew it wasn’t from Vera.

  Once upon a time Barney was thrown in jail for breaking Vera’s arm, thinking she’d stolen the ring. Austin heard his old man talking about it, saying the whore woman got what she deserved. Later Austin found the ring sitting in the hangar bathroom, but he didn’t touch it. He let Barney find it two days later, after Vera dropped the charges and he was released. Two days later Vera borrowed Barney’s 38 revolver and decorated their mauve and baby blue bedroom with her blood. The coroner’s report stated the cause of death as ‘bleeding to death from a gunshot wound’. As fate would have it, Vera’s right arm was the one Barney chose to test out the resilience of his Louisville Slugger baseball bat. Being right handed, Vera had to switch to using her left hand on account of the cast. Apparently Vera’s aim had been a little off and rather than dying instantly, she’d slowly bled to death while Barney was out celebrating his release.

  Barney collected the twenty thousand dollar life insurance check wearing a Cheshire Cat smile on his face. He’d given Austin an extra five dollars that week. He’d treated Donny and some of the others to a week-long drinking binge in Anchorage. Austin was left behind to fend for himself. He welcomed the reprieve, all the while dreading when the old man would return, knowing he’d be surlier than ever. Surliness meant extra beatings. As fate went, at the end of that week Austin fell into the frigid water and died for thirty-four seconds. In a way, looking back, his near death was the precise moment he started living.

  Austin picked his way around the junk cluttering the floor. Various owner’s manuals lay in a haphazard heap on top of a rusted metal shelf. Barney knew each one inside and out, for despite his social shortcomings, the man had been a genius when it came to fixing an airplane. Austin found an old blanket and covered Barney’s body.

  Out in the hanger he assessed the size and decided his plane would fit. He shoved open the large doors to a pitch black night and the lights inside the plane glowing like beacons. Time had gotten away from him, but he wasn’t worried. He guided the plane into the hangar and shut the doors. Less than a foot clearance remained, which was a foot more than needed.

  The cabin of the plane was maximized for comfort on long flights. Four large leather chairs faced each other. Austin sat in one facing the door and was pleasantly surprised to find it reclined. The temperature in the cabin was a balmy sixty-five degrees. Zack had assured him leaving the heater on was not a problem, since it ran on its own batteries. While munching on cold spam and crackers, Austin looked over a map of Russia. Oymyakon was his destination. An air strip built back during WWII was where he’d land. From there he would travel by whatever means he could find. By foot if nothing else was available. He knew at some point by foot was going to be his only choice. He folded the map and tucked it in his backpack. The recliner fit him perfectly and within minutes he was sound asleep.

  Late into the night the wind picked up, crashing into the hangar with gale force gusts. The metal groaned, threatening to give. Inside the insulated cabin of the plane Austin heard a different wind, not from outside the hangar, but from inside his dream, walking on the Kolyma Highway in Russia.

  M56 Kolyma Highway, the Road of Bones, ran through the Far East of Russia. Constructed during the Stalin era by labor camp inmates, the road stretched twelve hundred miles. Inmates were sent to the road to die, and thousands did perish during the construction period. The road signified the end of the Earth. Many years later, people settled there in hopes of striking it rich, only to become stuck, never to leave.

  Austin walked down the Road of Bones, ignoring the wind’s angry howls. The inmates who’d worked the road, faded in and out of view, ghosts of long ago, wearing expressions of hopelessness and desperation. Up ahead he could see the Lena River, where a ferry bobbed about at the shore. A hunched backed man, who had paper thin skin covered in dark l
iver spots, operated the ferry. Austin climbed on board, dropping a gold coin into the operator’s outstretched hand.

  Parking himself at the far end of the ferry, Austin stared out across the Lena to the opposite shores where more spirits moved about, dancing dances of lives lived long gone. He’d traveled between worlds before, between that of the living and the dead, but Eve had always been his guide. He did not feel her presence with him now. They floated across the Lena amidst thrashing waves and blustery winds threatening to toss them overboard. Austin stood solid on the deck watching the water rise and fall. This semi-state of consciousness caused him no fear, only anticipation. Not seeing Eve bothered him more than he cared to think about. If she wasn’t guiding him, then something had gone terribly wrong and death might be all that he found at the end of this journey.

  On the banks Austin caught a glimpse of a man dressed in white, who had solid white eyes and dark brown skin. Despite his unusual appearance and that he stood bent over leaning on a cane, Austin sensed he was an Adita. The man raised an arm beckoning to Austin, urging him to come along, to follow. The man jerked his head up to the sky. Out of the mist a Svan swooped down sinking its great talons onto the man’s head, ripping it from his body. His arm continued to beckon before his body toppled over into the water.

  Austin sat up with a start. The image of the man’s headless body bobbing down the river stayed with him briefly before fading away. The man was familiar, but Austin was sure they’d never met. The man didn’t look like an Adita, but Austin had no doubt he was, despite his unusual appearance. Austin sighed and laid back. Of one more thing he was certain, the man was there to help him find Eve. Of another thing he was certain, she needed his help and this time it wasn’t on any premise. The only thing he still had no sense of was the whereabouts of his son. The boy seemed to have vanished. Austin shook away the fear this brought. If he found eve, he would find Caleb.