The Harvest

by Sara Clancy

  Basheba plucked out some small organs and brought them closer to the flames, turning them over with the utmost care, studying them intensely. Eventually, she smiled.

  “And to the victor goes the spoils,” she said and offered them to the grateful dog.

  It was the gulping wet smacks that finally drew both boys’ attention. Ozzie’s jaw dropped. Mina had never so clearly seen the color drain from someone’s face. It didn’t matter that he instantly looked away. His nose wrinkled and he started making small, gulping noises.

  “Ozzie?” Cadwyn asked in a whisper. “Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

  “Why are you killing a rabbit?” Ozzie asked just shy of a whimper.

  Basheba didn’t pause in her motions, “I’m not. It’s already dead.”

  “But we have other food,” Ozzie protested.

  Confusion crossed Basheba’s face and her hands finally stilled, if only for a second.

  “No one told you?” Shrugging off her own question, she gestured a bloody finger to the backpacks. “Check the food.”

  Curiosity put Cadwyn into motion, the other two following. It didn’t take long for him to pull out a clear bag of mixed nuts. He weighed it in his palm for a moment before the lines in his brow deepened and he threw Basheba a quizzical glance.

  “Give her a second,” Basheba dismissed. “She must be feeling a little lazy.”

  Opening the pack, he tipped a few cashews out onto his palm, shifting them about with his thumb.

  “They look completely normal,” Mina said. Plucking one up, she popped it into her mouth.

  It turned to sludge on her tongue. A thick, tacky slime coated her mouth, ensuring the taste of rancid meat would linger even after she spat it out. Beside her, Cadwyn made a few disgusted grunts, signaling to her that the other nuts had rotted the same way.

  Focused on gouging the innards out of the rabbit, Basheba didn’t bother to look up as she spoke. “That’s one of her favorite tricks.”

  “Then why do we keep bringing food along?” Ozzie stuck out his tongue and scoured it with his fingernails after tasting one himself.

  Finding her water bottle in her pack, Mina rinsed her mouth out and passed the bottle to Ozzie.

  “Wishful thinking, I guess,” Basheba shrugged.

  Cadwyn dangled the bag in front of his face and poked at the still intact nuts. “She doesn’t do this all the time, does she?”

  “Katrina likes to mix stuff up,” Basheba said.

  He frowned and eyed the rabbit with suspicion.

  “Will that be safe to eat?”

  With a wet squelch, Basheba pulled the rabbit’s skin off. “As long as it’s not something she created. Its organs looked fine.”

  Those few words brought hope fluttering into Mina’s chest. There are limitations, she realized. If there are limitations, there has to be an internal logic. It felt like the earth had once again become solid beneath her, no longer crumbling in spontaneous chaos or shifting around her like a dream. There were limits to Katrina’s abilities. That meant, even here, in the Witch’s Woods, logic existed. Rules existed. Perhaps they weren’t the same biology and physics rules the rest of the world had to abide by, but they prevailed in some form, and even Katrina couldn’t change that. If I can figure out what they are, I can find a way to end this.

  Mina clamped her mouth shut before the words could topple free. She couldn’t be the first one to ever have these thoughts. Spouting off about them now would only antagonize Basheba and derail their conversation. And she needed Basheba to keep talking.

  It struck Mina that she hadn’t really been listening. When people spoke, she had been too distracted by her search for cause or reason to simply take in the information. Observation. Hypothesis. Experimentation. It had seen her through before, and it would see her through now.

  “How can she do that?” Cadwyn asked, studying each of the food bags in turn.

  “That isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened today,” Ozzie grumbled, his voice slightly muffled as he crouched low and hung his head between his knees. “I’m still trying to figure out why she stopped with the bees. Why did she let us go?”

  Mina’s arms curled protectively around herself at the mention of the swarm. Between Ozzie’s heavy breathing and Basheba’s steady dissection of the rabbit, no one noticed.

  “That one’s easy,” Basheba chirped as she slopped the empty skin aside.

  Ozzie gagged.

  “There’s only so long your ‘Thinking Brain’ can handle being afraid. After that point, it switches over to ‘Caveman Brain,’” she continued.

  Cadwyn braved the spitting embers to sit closer to the flames. His obvious fatigue couldn’t keep an amused smile from tipping his lips. “I’m going to need you to elaborate on that.”

  The blonde girl scoffed and started to hack off the rabbit’s limbs.

  “You can’t keep someone in a point of terror forever. If you try, we’ll eventually face the threat like our caveman ancestors would have.” One solid swipe severed a leg and made the blade clash against stone. “We grab something solid and beat it until it stops moving. That’s why she gives us breaks and switches to soft torture methods.”

  “Soft torture methods?” Cadwyn almost chuckled.

  “Right. Sorry. We’re supposed to call them ‘advanced interrogation techniques,’” Basheba said. “No sleep, hunger, the cold. All that stuff designed to break us down mentally and make the next horror hurt all the more. Katrina likes to alternate between the two.”

  “That’s not comforting,” Ozzie mumbled, the firelight making the fine layer of sweat on his face glisten.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Are you okay?” Cadwyn cut in. “I’m serious. You look really pale.”

  The teen pressed his lips tight and shook his head, all the while keeping his eyes locked on the dirt between his feet.

  “Talk to me,” Cadwyn urged.

  “Is it the blood?” Basheba asked innocently.

  To test her theory, she rocked up onto her knees and reached out, pushing her blood-slicked fingertips into Ozzie’s peripheral vision. The boy reeled at the sight, retching violently.

  “Blood? Really?” The question slipped Basheba’s lips before she huffed gently. It wasn’t an unkind sound. “You were fine in the graveyard.”

  Ozzie swallowed several times in a desperate attempt to stifle his gag reflex.

  “Those were burns. It’s different.”

  He barely got the words out before he retched again. Cadwyn was there to rub his back and offer him sips of water. The aftertaste won’t be helping, Mina thought. It wasn’t doing her any good.

  “You’re okay.” Cadwyn’s voice was surprisingly soothing. “Just take deep breaths.”

  Ozzie nodded weakly and obeyed as best he could, spitting a few mouthfuls of water onto the dirt. Keeping his smile bright for Ozzie, Cadwyn swung an arm out loosely toward his medical bag, clearly asking someone to grab it. Basheba raised her eyebrows and her blood-covered hands. Firelight danced off her knife, drawing more attention to the thick liquid that drenched it and the pale skin. Ozzie made the mistake of glancing up and moaned pitifully.

  “Sorry,” Basheba said and quickly brought her hands back down.

  Mina hurried to grab the pack and bring it over. It was a small container of vapor rub that he was after. He instructed the teen to smear some of the sharply scented gel under his nose.

  “To block the smell.”

  It seemed to help a little bit. At least enough that Ozzie was able to sit upright and not look like he was about to faint.

  “The smell’s the problem? Hold up.”

  She set the rabbit to cook, messing with the coals to swell the flames. That done, she yanked up a few handfuls of some tall grass. Without shaking off the sticking snow, Basheba used it to clean her hands and tossed the matted mess into the teepee fire. A sweet scent Mina couldn’t place quickly tainted the smoke. Ozzie breathed deep and drew
one knee up to his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” Ozzie mumbled. He attempted a weak smile. “I guess I’ve lost my hero status in your eyes, huh?”

  “Start pulling teeth and you’ll see me in a worse state,” Cadwyn assured him before Basheba could respond.

  “Bees,” Mina rushed, hoping to distract him and hold off the smaller woman’s response. “I’m terrified of bees. Any flying, stinging insect, really.”

  “Oh. Well, that explains why you were so terrified.” Ozzie’s eyes widened and he rushed to add. “Not that you didn’t have reason to be scared. Anyone would have been in your situation. I just mean...” He stammered for a second before sighing. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you,” Mina smiled.

  “Drowning,” Basheba stated. She barely glanced about the group before fixing her attention on cleaning her hunting knife.

  “You’re afraid of drowning?” Ozzie asked.

  Basheba shrugged one shoulder but it was a tense, jerking motion. “Girls with my name don’t do too well in deep water.”

  Drowning. The word repeated in Mina’s head, bringing with it a thickening trail of guilt.

  “You handled your fear a lot better than I did.” She felt obligated to say it out loud; to publicly admit her weakness.

  I’ll do better next time. God, I hope there’s not a next time.

  Basheba’s dismissive snort snapped her out of her thoughts.

  “That’s just practice. And it didn’t hurt that I knew it was coming.” Using the back of her wrist to push the hair from her forehead left a smear of blood behind. “You won’t have such a high opinion of me when she brings out the kids.”

  “Hold up. Did you just say ‘kids’?” Ozzie asked.

  “They’re terrifying,” Basheba said with a shudder. “Especially when you can’t see their stupid little faces.”

  Ozzie glanced around the group, looking about as confused as Mina felt.

  “Just to clarify,” Mina said as gently as she could. “You’re scared of children? Human children?”

  “I have a logical aversion to tiny little psychopaths with no impulse control and a limited understanding of empathy.”

  “So, smaller versions of yourself?” Cadwyn smiled.

  She paused, looked at him over the flames, and held her blood-stained hands out in a helpless shrug.

  “Terrifying, right?”

  ***

  Curled up on his side, Cadwyn stared at the wall of the tent and tried to decide if it was worth leaving the warmth of his sleeping bag to sneak a cigarette. The heavy snow had set in just as they started their dinner of charred rabbit and apples Buck had brought back from the surrounding darkness. He never thought he’d eat a piece of fruit that had recently been inside a dog’s mouth but, by the time Basheba had roasted them over the hot coals, hunger had won out. In all, it hadn’t been a bad meal.

  Cadwyn had new gratitude for Basheba’s nomadic lifestyle. There was fierce independence in everything she did. It allowed him more than enough time to check and treat the numerous small wounds everyone had received, and fix some of his stitches that had popped free. The only chore she had delegated to anyone else was cleaning the dishes. She had kept them far away from any significant body of water. But there was a small trickling stream close enough to glisten in the firelight. It was maybe six inches wide and two inches at its deepest, but Basheba refused to go anywhere near it. No one pushed the issue. The two teens had leaped at the chance to make themselves useful. It took them fifteen minutes to warm their fingers back up after they were done.

  Even while she took care of them, Basheba retreated in on herself, ignoring their physical presence as best she could. The only one she never failed to respond to was Buck. He was her constant shadow and, without prompting or reason, Basheba would stop whatever she was doing to lavish the dog with affection. The moments ended as abruptly as they started and were so random that it didn’t take long for the remaining three to begin betting on when it would happen next.

  Rolling over onto his back, Cadwyn watched as the falling snow deepened the shadows atop the tent. The increasing downfall had brought them inside the tent shortly after dinner, and it hasn’t stopped since. It worked with the creeping fog to chase off any trace of warmth. He made a mental note to thank whoever was in charge of selecting the sleeping bags. Heavy-duty thermal was a good choice. It made it all the harder to get up, though. He had forgotten about his cigarette craving as soon as his legs started to cramp. The three-person tent was a tight squeeze for their party. Not at all helped by Buck taking up almost as much room as Basheba did.

  He glanced across the row of sleeping bodies. Cadwyn and Basheba had taken to the walls, ensuring the younger two remained protected between them. Buck had coiled around his owner, allowing her to use him as both a pillow and a blanket.

  Cadwyn wasn’t too proud to admit he was jealous. A big furry animal would be a welcome relief from the ever-deepening cold.

  Basheba had stocked the teepee fire just before they had retreated to the tent, and the passing hours hadn’t done much to deplete the lashing flames. It made the tent walls glow and accentuated every passing shadow. The idea of having someone keep watch had been tossed around the group but came to nothing when Basheba crawled into her sleeping bag without comment. After a bit of prompting, she murmured that they could do whatever they wanted. It wouldn’t make any difference.

  That comment had lodged into Cadwyn’s brain like a splinter, keeping him awake and restless long after the others had fallen asleep.

  Does she mean that Katrina will come for us, and we’re doomed no matter what we do? The pop and crackle of the flames answered the distant scurrying of rodents. It seemed every sound was sharpened by his clustering thoughts. Or does she mean that Katrina will keep her distance and let our anxiety get to us?

  Letting his head roll to the side, Cadwyn studied the line of sleeping figures again. He hoped it was the last option simply because it obviously wasn’t working on anyone else but him. A small smile pulled at his lips as he watched the others. The fragile peace helped ease his mind. Adrenaline and determination could stave off sleep for only so long. Eventually, staying awake was really no longer an option. The body did what it needed to do and, as his eyelids grew heavy, he realized just how grateful he was for that.

  Cadwyn drifted, never fully awake nor truly sinking into oblivion. The cool air invaded his lungs on each breath and trailed down his neck like icy fingers. Small creatures scurried through the undergrowth, and birds let out low, dreary calls. The fire hissed as snowflakes melted against their touch, releasing a woody scent combated against the lingering odor of wet dog.

  Tension steadily slipped from his muscles until he felt like he was melting into the frozen earth. He sunk. A distant snap made him flinch, forcing his eyes open, leaving him blinking owlishly at the tent ceiling.

  Nothing had changed.

  Not sure if he had just dreamt the sound, he looked around while moving as little as possible, not wanting to risk stirring the others. The others breathed slow and deep. Buck whimpered in his sleep, his paws shifting over the tent floor to produce a muffled scrape. Holding his breath, Cadwyn strained to hear anything that didn’t belong.

  All traces of sleep left him when he caught the distant trace of cackling laughter. His heartbeat kicked up so fast he could barely breathe. Craning his neck but careful not to lift his head, he looked at the others, hoping at least one of them had stirred. Mina and Ozzie had curled up together in a desperate bid for warmth. They effectively blocked his view of Basheba.

  Blindly, he slowly stretched one arm out, slipping it over the top of the sleeping teenagers with the intent of tapping Basheba awake. Buck’s low growl made him pause. After a moment, he continued. He still couldn’t see her or the Rottweiler. The high-pitched laughter came again, far closer than it had been before, and he whipped around to stare at the tent wall behind him. He almost yelped at the first touch. Tiny, ch
illed fingers crept around his palm, slow and sluggish, the motion of someone still half-asleep.

  “Basheba?” He whispered.

  She shushed him. The sound barely louder than the chirp of cicadas and the crackling campfire. Her thumb rubbed circles against his palm. That small point of human contact changed everything. All the monsters he had created in his head turned back into shadows. The laughter died away and the placid calm returned. At last, he was able to close his eyes again. Cadwyn curled his wrist so he could take a better hold of Basheba’s hand. A branch snapped from somewhere close by. He jerked his head up.

  “Did you hear that?” He whispered.

  Again, she shushed him. A long, quiet push of breath through her teeth.

  Right, don’t wake the others.

  A part of him wanted to get them up. If something was coming for them, it would be better for all of them to be alert and ready to face it.

  Or run.

  In the back of his mind, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t just being paranoid. The more he questioned himself, the less certain he was that he had heard anything at all. Basheba squeezed his hand reassuringly, and he nodded to himself.

  She’s been here before. It was a small point but left her in a far better position to survive Katrina Hamilton’s Harvest.

  It struck him with renewed force just how much security he found in her presence. It didn’t matter that he was oldest, biggest, and undoubtedly the strongest physically in the group. Every time he thought of Katrina, he was hurled back through time to become that scared little boy watching helplessly as monsters devoured his brother, mind and soul. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of the music box in the sleeping bag with him. Its pointed edges dug uncomfortably into his spine, but he didn’t try to move it. He knew what was gestating inside it, and that knowledge was driving him mad. It left him jealous of the others, Ozzie and Mina in particular. They had had so many years of blissful ignorance.

  A sharp snap made him jump, jerking him from his thoughts and thrusting him back to reality. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he had dozed off, or how long he had been out, but Basheba’s hand was still in his. Soft, cool skin that left him feeling like a giant.