The Last Harvest

*

AFTER I finally get Mom and Noodle settled down, I go to my room and pull out the family Bible, tracing the initials written in the margins of the family tree. L.A.W. There’s definitely a connection, but I’m still not getting it. And what about his initials in the bank ledger? Did Dad know about Lee and Jess? Was he trying to pay him off, get rid of him? The longer I look at the words, the more they start to look like nonsense, just a jumble of letters and symbols. I’m so tired.

I only plan on closing my eyes for a second, but when I open them, everything’s different.

I prop myself up on my elbows and peer out the windows. The garbage bags are gone and the sky is bloodred. “Not again,” I whisper, hoping to snap out of whatever crazy shit is about to happen.

The door to my room opens, the light from the hall creating a hazy silhouette.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me,” Ali’s soft voice beckons. She’s wearing a Midland Pioneers jersey … and that’s all. She walks over nice and slow, her long tan legs stretching out in front of her, like a dangerous animal on the prowl.

I let out a nervous laugh. “Fine, subconscious, lay it on me. This is one prophecy I wouldn’t mind coming true.”

Ali climbs onto my bed. There’s just a thin sheet separating us. I run my hands from her ankles to the top of her thighs. She feels so real.

“Don’t stop there.” She smiles.

She leans over me, her long hair tickling my bare chest. I can see down the jersey. I can see everything. She raises my chin. With heavy lidded eyes, she kisses me. My hands move up her thighs.

“Blessed is the seed,” she whispers, but it’s not Ali’s voice. I pull back to look at her face.

It’s Miss Granger.

But I don’t push her away or try to get free.

She smiles as she takes my hand. I’m trying to find the will to wake up, but the warmth, the way she’s moving against me …

“Do it, Ben,” she whispers.

Ben?

“Wake up, silly,” Noodle says from the doorway. “He wants to show you something.”

I wake with a jolt—my hand hanging over the side of the bed, Hammy licking my fingers.

“Oh, hell no.” I jump out of bed. Hammy whimpers as he scoots out of the room.

What the hell’s wrong with me? I look at the clock. It’s only 2:00 A.M. and I’m sure as hell not going to sleep after that.

That was seriously messed up, but maybe it’s my subconscious telling me it’s time to talk to Miss Granger. She owes me that.





37

I PARK on her street, a few houses down, just to be safe. The last thing I need is people saying they saw me at her house in the middle of the night.

I knock on the door, soft, but insistent. When she finally cracks the door open, her cheeks are flushed, her hair’s down. It takes me aback. I’ve never seen her with her hair down before. It’s pretty.

As if reading my thoughts, she takes the elastic from her wrist and twists it up into the usual tight knot. “What are you doing here?” she whispers.

“We need to talk,” I say as I barge past her.

“Clay, you can’t—”

“I know you were a patient at Oakmoor. I know about Mrs. Wilkerson,” I say as I pace her living room. “Guess who told me … Tyler.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out that way, but coming to Midland, checking myself into Oakmoor was all a part of the plan. It was my way into the community.”

“See, I knew you were going to say something like that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“And Mrs. Wilkerson? Did you just forget to tell me she died just like my dad? The exact same words … the exact same expression.”

“She had the sight like your dad … like you … but I’m not going to let that happen to you.”

“What else are you hiding from me?”

I see her glance at the wall. There’s a sheet tacked up over the photos and documents.

I rip it down to find Lee Wiggins’s photo has replaced mine. My photo has been moved to the center of it all with SEED written beneath it.

“What is this?” I ask as I yank my photo down, staring at the word. “And what does Lee have to do with all this?” I drag my hand through my hair. “Are you in on this together? And this whole seed thing … is that something you just made up? Something you took from the Bible and twisted up in your sick little brain?”

“I’m sorry,” she says as she takes the photo away from me. “But you can’t be involved in this anymore.”

“Why? Because I’m on to you now? Because I’m messing up your fantasy world?”

“There’s been a disturbance at the church,” she says as she tacks the sheet back in place, like she can’t bear to look at it anymore. “I’m sorry, but the priests don’t trust you anymore.”

“That’s a good one. Is that why this mysterious exorcism hasn’t taken place?” I advance on her. She backs up against the wall, like she’s afraid of me. “Did you get your kicks with that little video I took for you? Was that fun making me take my clothes off at the church?”

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