The Harvesting (The Harvesting, #1)

“Yeah, it is what it is, right?” I replied, kissing his hand. I slid the sword back into the scabbard then climbed onto the roof of the truck. People were sitting around looking hopeless.

I whistled sharply, getting everyone’s attention. “Town meeting in two hours. Between now and then we need to get this barricade refortified and these bodies moved. Who can help?” I asked.

There was a silence for a moment and then a flood of volunteers. Within five minutes the arrangements had been made and everyone went to work.

I bounced off the truck and grabbed Jamie by the hand. “Ditched the bike. Wanna help me see if she still runs? We need to head back to the school.”

“Why?” he asked as we walked toward my bike.

“I left Frenchie there,” I replied, not wanting to get into Ian’s issue yet.

As we passed the body of the boy I had killed, Jamie stopped. “Hey, that was the Klienstivers’ son. He was some kind of piano virtuoso. I guess they used to home-school him so he could spend time practicing the piano. He played at the church sometimes. Nice kid.”

Guilt wracked me as I looked down on him. He had tried to kill me. I wondered then—why? Why were they trying to kill us? Consume us? I then realized that the boy looked practically intact save a nasty scratch across his still-fleshy, though pale and somewhat saggy, chest.

“Hey, didn’t you say they should just be bones by now?” I asked Jamie.

He shrugged. “Guess I was wrong,” he said as he picked the bike up. “Looks like you just broke a mirror.” He climbed on the bike and started it. “All good. I get to drive this time,” he said, and we headed off.

I could not help but look back at the boy’s body once more and think of how he had paused when I’d taken his hand. The implications made me shudder.





Chapter 19





“Cancer,” Mrs. Finch whispered to Jamie and me.

Ian sat looking at the floor, his chin propped in the palm of his hand.

“Are you sure?” Jamie asked aghast.

I stared at Ian.

“There is only so much I can tell. I did a quick blood and urine analysis and a physical. From the symptoms described, test results, and the condition he is in, it is most likely cancer. I can’t even say for sure what kind, but based on his pain could be liver, stomach, or pancreas. I just can’t know.”

Jamie went silent, and Ian still had not looked up.

“What about treatment?” I asked.

Mrs. Finch shook her head. “Chemo and that sort of thing are just not feasible. There might be some meds in the pharmacy, but we’re shooting in the dark without a proper physician.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” I asked.

“Layla,” Jamie said with a frown.

Ian looked up. “She’s right, Layla.”

“So we do nothing? We just wait for him to get sicker and—“

“—and die” Ian finished.

Frenchie tapped the glass of the office window. The alarm on the community center had rung more than two hours past. By now, everyone was waiting, and it was already dark. Nerves were running high. I waved to her that we were coming.

“Let’s go,” Ian said and rose to leave.

Jamie took him gently by the arm, but Ian shrugged his brother off. “I’m good,” was all he said.

Ian sat at the back while the rest of us went to the front of the gym.

I sat down on the stage.

“The barricade is back in place. Tomorrow we’re going to kick on enough juice to weld. We bulldozed steel and scrap in and will do more tomorrow. For tonight, it is good enough,” Tom informed the crowd.

As he spoke, I thought about how much fuel was left in town. Already reserves were getting low.

“What happened today? Who were those people?” Ethel asked.

“Mostly farm folks,” Fred Johnson replied.

“All at once?” Ethel asked.

It was a question that had been burning in everyone’s mind.

“Looks like pack mentality,” Buddie added.

“Mentality? Like they are thinking?” Summer asked.

“Something like that, you know, like animals . . . maybe,” Buddie answered.

“There could be more attacks like this. There are at least four dozen more farms and vineyards out there, and those are just the ones near us,” Mr. Jones added.

“Well, we lived, didn’t we,” Jeff commented.

“Barely,” Dusty added, “and we lost Jensen.”

The room was silent. Suddenly I saw Will and Kiki who had been keeping watch by the door stiffen and pull their weapons.

“Movement,” Will called.

A dozen armed citizens raced across the room, but something in me froze. My whole body felt stiff. Jamie headed toward the door, turning to look inquisitively at me as to why I had not followed. I neither moved nor said a word. Confused, he went ahead. My hands shook. My ears were ringing, and the strange feeling of electricity filled the air.

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