The Harvesting (18 page)

I spent the rest of the day in the
barn mulling over my own survival. Would I be able to make it on my
own? I sat with a whet stone sharpening my swords, reorganizing my
ammo, and trying to think about hunting. What I was really thinking
about, however, was how I had failed everyone. My grandmother lay
buried behind the barn. Ian was dying. The woman in the forest
charged me with protecting my people—and she was not the first to
do so—but I had failed to convince anyone. I had even failed to
make the man who loved me stay. I had failed my grandmother with my
inability to see. I had failed in my ability to convince anyone of
anything. As a result, I would be alone. And they would be
dead.

Later that afternoon, Frenchie came by
to grab her belongings. She was planning to take the girls to
Summer’s and Ethel’s so she would be closer to town when the
visitors returned.

“
I do believe you,” she
told me as she left. The girls crowded beside their
mother.

“
Then why are you going?”
I asked.

She stood on the porch, bags in hand.
“Because neither your instinct nor this life are enough,” she
replied and stepped off the porch toward Will’s truck. “I’m sorry,”
she added.

“
Your daughters are alive
because of instinct,” I called after her.

She stopped.

“
Your instinct,” I added.
“And what does your instinct—not your mind—tell you?”

She frowned heavily and loaded her
girls into the truck; they drove away.

I stomped back into the cabin and
threw my gear on the couch. I sat down at the kitchen table and put
my head in my hands. After a few minutes, I heard the kitchen chair
across from mine slide across the floor. I looked up to see my
grandmother sitting there.

Tu-tu-tu-tu-tu
, she clicked at
me.

I realized then that I’d been crying.
I wiped my eyes and looked at my grandmother.

That boy. He loves you,
and you love him. You’ll send him off to die like that? Come now,
that is not my Layla,
she said.

“
What can I do? They won’t
listen to me.”

What did Peryn
say?

“
To stop them.”

Ah-hum,
my grandma considered, her ghostly fingers
tapping on the table. They made no sound.
Are you sure?

I thought back. “Well, I guess what
she said was I should protect them.”

My grandma tapped her
finger on her nose and then pointed at me.
You can’t hide an axe in a sack. When the truth outs, who
will be there for them if you are not?

I lowered my head. She was
right.

My grandmother
rose.
Layla, I like that boy. You know, he
bandaged my toe once when I tripped at the grocery
store.

Suddenly, I felt ashamed.

No, no
, my grandma said as she exited the kitchen.
Enough sulking. Get to work. And Layla?
she called from the living room.

“
Yes, Grandma?”

Don’t forget the holy
water.

“
Grandma?” I
called.

She did not answer.

I rose and followed her to the living
room. She was gone.

Through the cracks in the window
slats, I saw movement in the driveway outside. I peeked through;
one of the undead was standing in the driveway. I realized then
that I had been so annoyed with Frenchie that I’d forgotten to
close the gate.

Picking up my sword, I opened the
door. The creature, a man, turned and looked when he heard
me.

He did not rush me as many of the
others had but simply stood, his head cocked to the side, observing
me.

My eyes darted around. He appeared to
be the only one who had gotten in, but I would have to check to be
sure. I suddenly felt afraid. What if there were more? What if I
overlooked something? I could die, alone, in this moment, and no
one would know. And I had not even told Jamie I was
sorry.

“
Why don’t you just go
away,” I told the undead man.

He pulled himself upright, arching his
back, and then turned and slowly shuffled out of the driveway back
down Fox Hollow Road. I watched him go, keeping an eye out for any
others. After he left, I barred the gate and did a complete sweep
of the property. I found nothing, no one, alive or dead.

I sat down on the porch steps, sword
in hand, and closed my eyes. What had I become? What was this new
world where I saw strange things at every turn? Forest spirits.
Shadows. Was I hearing the undead? Were they hearing me? I fully
realized then that there was no going back. Whatever I was,
whatever I had become, there was no return. I had to embrace it or
run from it. If I ran, people I loved, people for whom I was
responsible might die.

When I opened my eyes, I noticed the
sun had set. I rose. After making a stop at the barn for supplies,
I went inside and packed up my gear. I closed all the shutters and
pad-locked all the doors from the outside. I then hopped on my
bike. Chaining the gate closed, I headed away from Fox Hollow
Road.

As I sped down the drive, I found the
undead man lumbering along. I pulled out my gun and shot him in the
back of the head. For some reason, it made me feel
guilty.

I gunned the bike and headed to town,
hoping Jamie would forgive my hasty words. Hoping I was not too
late. And I remembered to bring the holy water.

Chapter 22

It was dark by the time I pulled into
Jamie’s house. Though there was no wind, the leaves on the Birch
trees outside had turned over and were shaking. Odd. Grandma always
said the leaves would turn when a storm was coming. I looked up at
the crescent moon. No clouds. No wind.

The house was dark. I knocked heavily.
There was no answer.

“
Jamie?” I
called.

Nothing.

I went to the window and peeked
inside. It was totally dark; there was no movement.

He must have gone to Ian’s house. I
jumped back on the bike and headed across town. There was no sign
of anyone anywhere. Neither the dead nor the living
stirred.

Ian’s and Kristie’s house sat on upper
Seneca Street. Kristie’s grandmother had died and left the house to
them. It was a large, white two-story with an attached greenhouse
on the side. The greenhouse had fallen into disrepair, weeds
growing wildly inside. The house was empty.

I was about to head toward the
elementary school when I heard a horn sounding from the lake.
Standing on Ian’s porch, I had a view of the lake below. I pulled
out my binoculars. There, on the dock, I could see what looked like
the last of the town residents being loaded aboard the ship. Almost
everyone was on board already. Mrs. Finch was pushing Ian in a
wheelchair down the dock toward the boat. I could see Jamie at the
ship’s plank arguing with the man who had introduced himself as
Corbin. The last few residents were just boarding.

“
Oh my god,” I whispered.
I would be left behind.

I jumped on the bike and gunned it.
Praying someone would see my headlight, I sped across town, cutting
through lawns and the grocery store parking lot. As I blasted
through, I noticed several undead had collected just outside the
town library. They paused, watching as I passed. I swerved by them
and headed toward the water. Down over the bank, passing the
Fisherman’s Wharf, I hit the lake-side walking path. I sped toward
the boat.

I noticed that two men were pulling up
the plank. Jamie was there with them, talking incessantly, waving
his arms. Tom pulled him back and held him out of the crewman’s
way.

Then, they heard the bike. I saw Jamie
shout to the men and pointed toward me. The men paused.

I drove the bike down the dock and
parked it under the pavilion. Jumping off, I jogged down the wooden
planks, hopping the swinging pedestrian gate, and ran to the
end.

Corbin, the hawkish looking man, stood
at the rail nearest the plank. The crewman seemed to wait for his
command. He looked down at me. When our eyes met, I could feel him
challenging me.

“
Sorry I’m late,” I said
with a smile, trying to play it off.

He wasn’t buying me anymore than I was
buying him.

“
Let her on,” I heard
Jamie yell, but I could not see him.

Corbin leaned over the railing to look
more closely at me. We were standing nearly face to face. “Should I
let you on?” he whispered.

I held his gaze, not backing down.
“Let me on.”

He motioned to the men to lower the
plank.

I looked at him.

This time, he smiled at
me. “Remember later,
you
asked to come,” he whispered.

“
I’m here to keep those I
love safe.
You
remember that,” I replied, holding his gaze.

He smiled, motioned for me to come
aboard, and then he disappeared back into the ship.

The steel rail felt cold beneath my
hand. I turned and looked back once more toward the town. There,
above the town on the Point, I saw the figure of a man. He seemed
to lean back into an archer’s pose. He shot a shadow arrow that
burned like a shooting star across the night’s sky. I took a deep
breath and boarded the ship.

Chapter 23

I was met on board by the smiles of
the people I had come to love.

Jamie fought his way through the crowd
and grabbed me, nearly crushing me. “You’re pressing my throwing
daggers into my back,” I whispered to him.

He let go with a chuckle and looked
down at me.

“
I’m sorry,” I said
rapidly, the words falling too loudly and somewhat broken from my
mouth.

“
No, no, it’s okay. I’m
sorry too. I understand,” he said, kissing the top of my
head.

I pressed my cheek against his chest.
I opened my eyes to see Ian looking at us. He looked
away.

“
Why did you change your
mind?” Jamie asked. He took my hand and led me toward the railing.
The boat had turned and was now gliding across the lake. The town
was no longer in sight.

“
Well, I needed a
vacation. I hear the HarpWind is nice.”

Jamie smiled wryly. “Seriously,” he
whispered.

I turned and looked back toward the
Captain’s deck of the yacht. Therein I could see the heads of our
new benefactors moving about. “I’m not wrong, and I haven’t changed
my mind,” I said.

He looked up at the deck as well.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

It took about three hours to cross the
lake in the swift yacht. Soon, the lights of the HarpWind Grand
Hotel appeared on the horizon. The place was dimly lit; they were
using candles and lanterns. The hotel’s lights appeared like
ghostly shadows on the water, breaking amongst the
waves.

The captain of the boat sounded the
horn.

It was met by the clang of a cast-iron
triangle at the end of the hotel’s pier.

Jamie and I exchanged
glances.

When we arrived, a number of people
were there to greet us. Many were other survivors who shook our
hands and asked us from where we’d come. They were a mixed group
coming from small towns and cities scattered all around the Great
Lakes. Amongst them were hotel proprietors who helped us make our
way up the path to the opulent HarpWind Grand Hotel.

“
I need to go help Ian,”
Jamie whispered to me.

I nodded and then, dodging through the
crowd, I found Frenchie. I picked up Susan and set her onto my
shoulders. She laughed. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the
hotel.

She was right. It was beautiful. The
hotel was five stories in height and stretched long. It curved with
the shape of the land, making the hotel crescent shaped. I
remembered that the word Enita, the name of the island, meant moon;
I’d see it in the documentary. The first two floors of the hotel
were stone, the upper floors were New England style shingle sided.
As we walked toward the massive structure, I could see the
chandelier in the foyer was alive with candle-light. The crystals
sparkled.

Frenchie took my hand. “Thank you,”
she whispered.

We were led into the main foyer. A
massive stone fireplace burned cheerfully. It stemmed off the cool
chill in the air.

A pale looking girl with long black
hair and flashing pale blue eyes introduced herself as Matilda. She
began handing out room keys and taking names. The more I looked at
her, the more I realized I recognized her as the face I had seen
amongst the crowd on New Year’s Eve. When she got to me and
Frenchie, she paused. She looked thoughtfully at me. I looked back
with a hard gaze.

“
The man there said that
you, the girl with the sword,” she said, looking at the weapon
hanging from my belt, “are roomed with him: 415,” she said smiling
sweetly as she handed me a key.