The Harvesting (The Harvesting, #1)

“Dammit,” I whispered.

The fire had burned down to a bank of embers. I felt around the kitchen table for the candles. Grandma had left a box of them sitting there. Striking a match, I lit a candle and turned toward the living room.

I nearly screamed. My grandmother was sitting in her favorite chair in front of the fireplace doing crochet. Like the Native American chief, I saw my grandmother and saw through her all at once. Don’t forget to lock the gate, she said without looking up.

I turned toward the door, considering her words, then turned back. When I did, she was gone, but her sewing was sitting on the chair, and I couldn’t remember if it had been there all along or not.

Taking the flashlight and my shashka, I went outside. I could hear a strange clang, clang, clang noise as I walked toward the gate. At the gate was a young woman whose face was so badly torn apart I couldn’t recognize her. Her entire nose had been torn off, revealing fleshy pulp inside. She must have followed Ian’s truck up the road. She was pushing at the gate, biting and snapping when she saw me.

I kept my flashlight on her and got close. We stood across from one another locked in a stare. I wondered about “brain activity.” Clearly, the undead hungered, but did they think? In that same moment, I also realized she had a bright red ribbon in her hair.

I felt confused and frustrated. “Stop,” I commanded and for a moment she was still. But then she snapped and snarled again.

I sighed. I lifted the sword and thrust it through her skull. She fell like a bag of bones. I locked the gate and headed inside, barring the door behind me. This time I went directly to bed. While my grandmother lived on in the spirit, the world was now filled with the undead, and I’d had enough fighting the undead for one day.





Chapter 9





I was sitting on the front porch drinking fire-brewed coffee when Jamie pulled up in my SUV. I swished the truly awful coffee around in my mouth. It was bitter and laced with grounds. I dumped the remaining liquid over the side of the porch and went to let Jamie in.

“Power out here too?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’d offer you some coffee, I made it over the fireplace, but I think you’d never forgive me. Looks like Grandma forgot to stock up on instant.”

“Well, maybe she wanted you learn how to cook.”

“Nothing like the apocalypse to force us to learn new skills.”

We both laughed.

“You ready?”

I was already dressed, my weapons reloaded. I’d added throwing daggers to my belt and had slid the poyasni into my boots. I patted the shashka. “You bet.”

Closing up everything behind us, we headed down Fox Hollow Road.

“So what’s the plan?” Jamie asked.

“I have an idea, but we need the police cruiser. Do you think that will be a problem?”

Jamie shook his head. “Some of the guys have already been in the Sheriff’s Office to clear out the guns. The car is still sitting there.”

“Ok, first we get the car.”

We drove across town to the Sheriff’s Office. It was a small building that sat close to the river. The cruiser was parked outside. We exited carefully, keeping an eye out for the undead. The door to the office was open. When we reached the doorway we could hear grunting coming from inside.

“I thought this place was clear,” I whispered.

“It was.”

We couldn’t see anyone when we first entered. Ducking low, we crept around the front desk. There was an old man in the break room. He was rocking back and forth; his clothes were ragged, and one arm was clearly dislocated.

Jamie stood, raising his gun, but I stopped him. I patted my throwing daggers. Careful to get into position, I unsheathed one dagger and, sending it over hand, launched it through the air. It hit him squarely in the back of the head. He fell with a thump.

“I think you’re on steroids,” Jamie said with a grin.

I shook my head. “No, I just practice and work out a lot.”

“So I see,” Jamie replied, playfully eyeing me over.

“I’ll get the knife. Grab the keys?”

Jamie nodded and headed toward the desk.

I headed toward the break room to retrieve my knife. The body of the old man lay still on the floor. When I turned the corner, however, I got jumped. An enormous undead man had been standing in a blind-spot. We’d missed him. When I walked in, he attacked. Seconds later he slammed me to the floor. I hit the ground hard. “James!” I screamed.

The massive undead man lay sideways on top of me. He snapped at me, his mouth a mess of mangled flesh and bloody saliva. I struggled to keep him from making contact with my skin. I tried to push him off but he was too heavy.

Jamie was there the next second and kicked the man off of me. The undead man fell to the floor and with one shot, Jamie took him out.

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