The Immortal Harvest

by L. J. Wallace

  He bent down and picked up the soggy sandwich and turned again to face his unknown attacker.

  He fought the urge to cry and rubbed at the stinging in his cheek as he looked around and stared at each of the many faces on the bus. He felt a sudden flush of anger as he stood and screamed at the crowd.

  “Who threw this? It’s not funny!”

  The crowd of children all stopped talking at the same time at the sound of Justen’s voice and then as if on cue they all burst out laughing at him.

  He felt outrage and then humiliation as a piece of ketchup ridden salami slid slowly off the top of his head. He spun around quickly in his seat, grabbed the soggy salami and threw it out the window.

  The stinging in his cheek combined with the stinging in his eyes as tears welled up and streamed down his cheeks.

  The sudden lurching movement of the bus provided his escape as it had pulled up at the bus stop outside of his building. He hurriedly brushed the tears from his eyes, grabbed his bag and strode to the front of the bus.

  He kept his head down as he walked and mumbled his thanks to the driver as he exited the bus. He deliberately ignored the jeering children as the bus pulled away and left him alone on the sidewalk.

  It wasn’t until the bus had departed, that Justen understood that he was, in fact, alone.

  His Mother was absent. He felt a flutter in his chest and his breathing quickened as he looked around and then towards the front of his building as if any moment his Mother would appear beside him to hold his hand.

  He did not understand why his Mother was not there. He was also confused as to why Crystal had not shown up to take her place.

  He felt a sudden rush of panic and sprinted towards the main door of the building. He burst through the door and almost tripped over the body of a man who was lying on the floor of the building’s foyer. Justen recognised him.

  “Hi Leroy, have you seen my Mother or Crystal? They were supposed to meet me at the bus stop.”

  There was no response.

  Justen leant in closer to Leroy. He had never seen a dead man up close and wondered whether Leroy was dead.

  He bent down and gently grabbed a handful of tattered coat and shook him.

  Leroy reacted violently as he shrugged his shoulder away from Justen and clutched desperately at a crumpled brown paper bag.

  “Goway! Leave mmelone,” he managed to slur before falling back into unconsciousness.

  Startled by Leroy’s aggressiveness, Justen jumped backwards and ran towards the stairwell beside the lift.

  He did not use the lift because his Mother had told him that lifts were dangerous. He did not understand why his Mother had forbidden him from using the lift.

  It didn’t matter; he had fun counting the stairs as he climbed the eight flights of stairs that led to Crystal’s apartment.

  As he climbed, he gazed at the walls of the stairwell. He could see strange pictures and lots of ugly looking words and numbers scrawled across them. He did not understand why someone would write on walls.

  Didn’t they have paper?

  He gave up counting the steps after the first thirty and sprinted up the last remaining flights. He opened the door at the top of the eighth flight and entered the corridor. He always felt a little scared walking alone in this corridor.

  He could still remember the first night he had stumbled out of Crystal’s apartment and entered a room that looked like it was falling apart.

  He shuddered when he remembered hiding from the bad man behind some old boxes. He did not know why he felt that the man was a bad man. He just remembered that the man had a really big gun and had fired it out the window.

  Did he shoot someone?

  When he saw that the man had fired the huge gun and was about to turn around, he saw a flash of the man’s face. It had a crack in it.

  Scared out of his wits, he ran from that room as quick as he could. His heart was beating really hard. He was petrified.

  What if the man had seen him? Would he shoot him too?

  He remembered his urgent need to get back and find his Mother. It was whilst he was running back down the corridor and into the stairwell that he ran into Crystal. She had hugged him and told him that everything was okay.

  He remembered how relieved he had felt when Crystal had taken him back to his Mother. He had seen his Mother’s face and how scared she looked on that night. He decided that he would not tell her what happened with the bad man. He did not want her to look so scared again.

  He suffered with bad dreams ever since he had seen the bad man fire the gun and one night he had to break his vow and tell his Mother what had happened.

  He had sobbed when he told her of what he had seen. She had cuddled him and told him that she would always be there to protect him. After he had told her his secret he slept without the night mares.

  Justen shook his head to clear away the bad memories of the night mares as he reached Crystal’s apartment. He put his bag down and reached into his shirt and pulled out the chain with the key on it. He inserted the key in the lock and was about to turn it when the door moved forward. It was already open.

  With a puzzled expression on his face, he shrugged his shoulders, pulled the key out the lock and tucked the chain back into his shirt. He picked up his bag and entered the room.

  The room was dark, only a thin sliver of light filtered in through a tear in one of the blinds. Justen squinted against the darkness and fumbled with his hand on the wall near the doorway, feeling for the light switch.

  He shivered as his fingers brushed against an old cobweb as they hovered over the switch, instantly causing the light to come on.

  He enjoyed the fact that he could control electrical items without touching them. It wasn’t a big deal to him. He thought everyone could do it until his Mother had seen him do it.

  She told him that he was a special boy and he had to keep it a secret so that the other kids wouldn’t get jealous. He was puzzled by his Mother’s reaction but he made sure that he told no one of his gift. He had not told his Mother that his gift was becoming stronger; he did not want to worry her.

  His eyes squinted as the single bare bulb which hung suspended from the ceiling lent a small degree of illumination to the hovel. It wasn’t a hovel to Justen.

  He loved the fact that Crystal wasn’t a neat freak. He loved the tatty old carpet and the thread bare sofa. He was a kid, he didn’t care about decor.

  He even liked the weird smell. His Mother didn’t like the smell and told him that he should keep his window open in his room. Apparently his lungs needed fresh air.

  The pain from the sandwich attack had subsided and he soon realised that he was hungry.

  He felt upset that his Mother had not been at the bus stop to collect him because she always had a glass of milk and some yummy cookies waiting for him.

  He decided that Crystal wouldn’t mind if he raided the refrigerator.

  The fridge was nearly empty except for some blue furry looking cheese and a large carton of milk.

  He struggled with pulling the heavy milk carton out of the fridge and was proud that he had only managed to spill a single splash of milk over the counter.

  He ran his index finger through the milk puddle and made a smiley face. He sucked the milk from his finger and reached for the cookie jar.

  Grabbing a handful of cookies he proceeded to the sofa to watch cartoons on the television. He slumped heavily onto the sofa and almost tipped out his milk. He leant forward and carefully placed his glass and pile of cookies on the coffee table.

  He fumbled in the folds of the sofa looking for the remote. He frowned when he couldn’t find it and had to go over and point at the power button on the old style set to bring it to life.

  By concentrating really hard he could flick through the channels. He finally settled on the Cartoon channel when he noticed the flashing red light on the phone’s answering machine that was on the small table next to the television.

  He mu
ted the television, went to the phone to retrieve the message. He had seen Crystal retrieve messages before and knew which button to use.

  He smiled as he listened to the cheery voice of his friend.

  “Hi this is Crystal Meth leave a message after the beep.”

  Beep!

  Ahh hello…Ms Meth?…This is Nurse Richards from George Washington General’s ER, I believe that you are currently living with a Miss Sylvan Peters. I got your details from her mobile. I need you to come down to Washington General.

  She has been the victim of an attack. She is in a coma. I can’t tell you any more on the phone. Please come down, we have some urgent questions we would like answered. (click)….Beeeep!

  Justen stood rigidly, staring at the phone. The tears welled up in his eyes. He felt sick. He could feel his tummy twisting.

  He bent over from the pain as the tears began to pour down his face. The lights in the room flickered wildly and the television inexplicably turned itself off.

  Justen ignored this as he felt his lungs start to burn as the stress triggered his asthma. He started to struggle to breathe.

  Gasping for breath, he stumbled to his school back pack and quickly pulled out his inhaler and desperately took two quick puffs, instantly feeling the calming effect of the medicine.

  Once he could breathe easier his mind began to race. Questions flooded his mind.

  Is that why he had been left alone? Where was Crystal? Had she heard the message and had gone to see his Mummy? What is a ‘coma’ and why was Mummy in one? Who attacked her?

  He straightened up and wiped the tears and snot off his face using the sleeve of his jacket. He knew that he had to see his Mother.

  He felt in his pocket for the emergency five dollar note his Mother had given him. His fingers gripped the wrinkled note.

  He snuffled and wiped his face with his sleeve again. He shoved the inhaler in his other pocket as he raced towards the door.

  He had a plan; he was going to ask a taxi driver to take him to see his Mummy at the hospital. He burst out of the building and onto the street.

  As he stopped and looked around, wondering which way to go, he noticed that the street was empty. There were no people. He suddenly felt frightened.

  Clutching his backpack to his chest he took a deep breath and headed in the direction that the bus was going. He was driven by one thought.

  I have to find Mummy!

  Seven

  Like ERs the world over, the Emergency Room at George Washington General was seething with the desperate struggle for survival.

  Everywhere Crystal looked, there were blood stained gurneys with soiled sheets encompassing misery.

  She hated hospitals. The general atmosphere of the place created a strange mix of sterility and gore.

  The smell of bleach and blood assaulted the nasal passages forcing Crystal to cough spasmodically as she stalked through the room looking for the Nurse who had left the message.

  She staggered a little as she walked, her bloodstream still coursing with a mixture of alcohol and heroin.

  Her blurred vision fixed upon a portly nurse who was busily leaning on the ER counter and scribbling on some kind of clip board.

  “Hello luv, I got a message about Sylvan Peters. Are you Nurse Richards?”

  The Nurse instantly scowled at Crystal. She stopped writing on the clip board and pointed to the name badge that adorned her left breast along with her photo ID. Her reply was brusque.

  “I am Nurse Watson; Nurse Richards is assisting in the O. R. Can I help you?”

  The nurse stepped back and crinkled her nose at the visage of Crystal.

  “If you’re here for advice on drug addiction the rehab unit is on the fourth floor or if it is for STDs the free clinic is two blocks away.”

  Crystal sensed the disdain in the Nurse’s voice and instantly took offence.

  “Now listen ’ere ya pompous bitch, you lot called me…”, she was cut off from further abusiveness by the quiet voice from behind.

  “Hello, Ms Meth is it? I am Doctor Carlisle, Sylvan’s Doctor.”

  Crystal quickly spun around and looked straight into the most caring man’s eyes that she had ever seen.

  They were sky blue and framed by the tiniest of laughter lines. She flushed slightly and held out her hand towards the handsome Doctor.

  Apart from his attire, she could tell straight away that he was a Doctor. He was very tall and he held himself in a very commanding way.

  His hair was dark and had small highlights of silver intermingled throughout the black.

  “Yep, that’s me. You can call me Crystal,” she said as she held out her right hand and self consciously tried to fluff out her hair with her left.

  The Doctor smiled briefly as he shook her hand and then turned and spoke in a serious tone to the Duty Nurse.

  “Nurse Watson, can I please have the records for Ms Sylvan Peters.”

  Crystal watched as the handsome Doctor retrieved the file from the fat bitchy nurse.

  “Please walk this way Crystal,” he said as he tucked the file under his arm and pointed in the direction of the wards.

  The Doctor walked off briskly toward the hall way leading off from the ER, he spoke quickly as he walked.

  “Tell me Crystal, how well do you know Ms Peters? Do you know if she has any family we can call? Do you know of any allergies she might have?”

  Crystal struggled with the rapid fire of questions. She stopped walking and grabbed the Doctor’s sleeve.

  “Listen Doc, what are you trying to tell me? Is Sylvan ok? Is she dying or sumthin?

  Doctor Carlisle stopped walking when he felt Crystal’s touch and turned to face her.

  “Your friend has been seriously hurt. She has numerous contusions from her attack.

  She had been kicked in the head. We have had to put her into an induced coma to assist her with the healing process.

  “We have done all that we can to help her. We need to get in touch with her immediate family or someone who has knowledge of her medical history. Do you know anyone who can help us?”

  Crystal let go of the Doctor’s sleeve and stared at the floor. She put her hands on her face and slowly shook her head. After awhile she slowly raised her head and looked up at the Doctor.

  “Listen Doc, I have only known Sylvan for a coupla weeks. She moved in with me with her kid after she ran away from home. She was in a sorry state when I found her…”

  “I’m sorry; did I hear you say ‘kid’? How old is he?”

  “Yeah, he’s a cute little guy, his name’s Justen.”

  The Doctor stepped back and looked sternly at Crystal.

  “Where is her son now? Is there someone looking after him?”

  Crystal stiffened up at the tone of the Doctor’s questioning.

  “Look Doc he’s six. I’ve been lookin after meself since I was his age. He’s got his own key and everyfin. He’ll be fine.”

  Crystal could see from the appalled expression on the Doctor’s face that he was not very happy with her response.

  “Look Doc, he’ll be fine. Just take me to see Sylvan Ok!”

  The Doctor removed the file from under his arm and opened it and then pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and pushed a speed dial button.

  He turned away from Crystal as he waited for the person at the other end of the call to respond, after a short while he turned back towards her and held his index finger up in front of him as a gesture for Crystal to wait.

  By the look on his face, Crystal could tell that he was not able to contact whoever it was and just left a perfunctory message.

  “Yes Ms James, this is Doctor Carlisle from George Washington General. Please call me when you get this message,” and with that he tucked the file back under his arm and strode down the hallway.

  Crystal thought that he acted a bit rude but refrained from further comment and followed him.

  After passing three doors the Doctor stopped and proceeded to enter
what Crystal assumed was Sylvan’s room.

  Crystal entered behind the Doctor and squinted in the dimly lit room. She could see that there were a lot of different types of medical gizmos with flashing lights and cords and wires scattered around like spaghetti. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of disinfectant.

  The euphoric effects of the drugs and alcohol in her system were beginning to wear off and she wished that she had something that she could take to calm her nerves.

  She moved closer to the bed and could just make out the body shaped lump she assumed was Sylvan.

  She reached out her hand to see if she could feel for Sylvan’s hand. She was about to speak when she heard the unmistakable humming of a vibrating mobile phone. She heard the Doctor cough slightly as he excused himself from the room to answer the phone.

  Crystal moved in closer to the bed, being careful not to disturb the cords and tubes that were attached to Sylvan. She grabbed Sylvan’s hand lightly as she stooped over her to put her other hand tenderly on Sylvan’s forehead.

  Tears welled up in her eyes when she saw the extent of Sylvan’s injuries.

  She could feel the rage welling up inside her as she gazed upon the pulped face of Sylvan.

  She could see that her face was swollen almost beyond recognition. Both of her eyes were a dark purplish black. Her lips were swollen and she had bandages wrapped around the top of her head.

  As she stared at the beaten mess, she could hear the rhythmic sound of the machinery and the flashing lights blurred her vision. She bent down slowly and whispered in Sylvan’s ear.

  “Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll find whoever did this to you and I’m gonna cut their fucken’ balls off!!”

  She tenderly patted the top of Sylvan’s head as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a slip of paper and then stood with her one of her hands on her hips as she faced the young doctor.

  She waited until he had finished his phone call and then held out the slip of paper as an offering.

  “This is my mobile number Doc. I want you to call me as soon as Sylvan has woken up ya hear. I’m not gonna leave her to rot in this dump.”