“Tom’s got people working the vines and the pumpkins. A few people are in the back cherry orchard. We still need people to pick apples. I thought we could work up here,” Ian told Jamie, April, and me.
We all picked up some baskets and headed into the orchard. Ian, his gun slung over his shoulder, kept watch. It was a beautiful morning. The sky was clear. The hardwood trees had lost most of their leaves. The remaining foliage, now drab brown, rust, and deep red in color, was about to drop. The apple trees were thick with fruit. The fallen apples filled the air with the tangy smell of decayed fruit. Yellow jackets buzzed the apples.
April was working in the tree next to mine. I could hear her and Ian chatting. I wondered what kind of relationship they’d developed over the last four years. April and Kristie had always been very close.
I filled the first basket of apples and headed back to the wagon with my load. The bushel was surprisingly heavy. Jamie was on his way back to the orchard when he intercepted me.
“Here, let me take that for you,” he said, taking the bushel from my hands.
“Got to help the little lady, huh?”
He laughed, “I’m sure you can handle it. I’m just being gentlemanly. Didn’t you hear Ethel? I’m a great catch.”
I looked up at Jamie. I’d never noticed before how different his eyes were from Ian’s. I knew they both had blue eyes, but Jamie’s eyes were a deeper shade, the blue intermixed with flecks of green and gold. I smiled at him. “I thought you were dating that girl from Sparkstown.”
Jamie shrugged. “That ended a couple of years ago. She was nothing special.”
“Well, you’ll be hard-pressed now,” I said.
“Hard-pressed for what?”
“To find something special.”
Jamie lowered the apple bushel into the wagon. He looked at me and gave me a very awkward smile. “I don’t know about that.”
Just then a truck pulled into the farm, music blaring loudly. Jeff.
“Hey man, you want every undead asshole left in the county following you here? Turn it down,” Jamie told him as he approached Jeff’s truck window.
Jeff got out of the truck carrying an oversized CD player. He put it on his shoulder; “Just like the 80s, right?” he said and danced his way to the back of his truck. He dropped the tailgate. There he had stashed three large coolers. Within, bottles of beer swam in cold lake water. “Want one?” he asked.
Jamie shook his head.
“It’s a bit early,” I said.
“Well, considering I might die tomorrow, I’m not really watching the clock,” he replied as he cracked open a bottle.
“But you can get to work,” I said, handing an empty basket to him, “if you want to eat.”
“Thought I might try a liquid diet,” he said, lifting the bottle and looking at it in the sunlight. “Just kidding, Layla. I’ll get going in a minute,” he said and took the basket from me.
I’d gone back to the wagon to grab another basket when Tom returned.
“Jamie, can you take the tractor back to the field? They are ready to load the gourds and pumpkins.”
Ian joined us.
“Sure,” Jamie said with a nod. The old tractor kicked on with a lurch. With a wave, Jamie pulled away.
I grabbed a ladder and headed back to finish the top of the tree I was working on. I waved to April. She was hoisting the long fruit picker, a kind of clawed basket at the end of a long pole, into the top of a tree near mine. She smiled, half-tolerantly, at me.
I popped open the ladder and climbed up. As I got half-way up, two things became apparent. I needed to use the shoulder sling to collect the apples and my sword and holster were in the way. I climbed back down, hung my scabbard strap on the top of the ladder and swung the holster from a bottom limb. Donning the shoulder sling, I climbed back up the ladder and started loading apples into the satchel. I paused to eat a perfect looking fruit. Its skin was mostly green but was blushed at the edges with red. The sweet and tart juices filled my mouth.
In the distance I could see Jeff and Ian sitting on Jeff’s tailgate. They were both drinking. Jeff had turned the music back on. It wasn’t loud, but I could hear the beat of the rock music from where I was perched.
I had half-filled the satchel when I could no longer reach the apples from my ladder. Grabbing a thick branch, I pulled myself up into the tree. Once I was perched near the top, I took a break to stretch my back. The sun was high in the sky now; I was starting to sweat. The bugs were becoming particularly annoying. I stopped, pulled the small canteen off my belt, and took a long drink. I looked for April to offer her some water when I saw someone standing very near my tree. I could not make out the person well through the leaves, but every hair on the back of my neck rose. The person stood there saying nothing. They just stood. I knew then who—or what—it was.
It had not yet seen me. I cursed myself in every language I knew. My guns and my sword were all out of reach. I slowly pulled my feet up and slid the poyasni from my boots.
“Ouch. Dammit. God-damned yellow jackets,” April cursed.