The Last Harvest(88)

I force her to look at me, relieved to find it’s still Ali … the girl I love with the soft hazel eyes. “Just hang on to me,” I say as I carry her down the stairs, past the flies and their sickening whispers. I open the front door to find the perimeter of the wheat filled with people, with hundreds more pushing through behind them. Some are complete strangers … some I recognize from town.

“Dale,” I yell. He smiles, but it’s not his smile. His eyes are pure black—dead and inhuman.

This is just like my dream … the vision I had during the game.

Dale’s one of them now, along with Greg Tilford, Reverend Devers, Mrs. Gifford, Mr. Cox … they’re all a part of this now.

“Clay … what’s wrong with them?” Ali asks. “Why are they smiling like that? What’s wrong with their eyes? Why won’t they help us?”

I take off running with Ali in my arms toward the Neely ranch. “Don’t f*cking come near us,” I scream as I cut through the wheat, but they’re everywhere. They don’t try to grab us, but they’re following. Watching. It’s so dark now that I can hardly see more than a few feet in front of me, but I can hear them breathing all around me.

I’m never going to make it all the way back to the barn carrying her like this. I see the silhouette of the combine in the distance and I pick up my pace.

I’m hurrying to stay one step ahead of these freaks, but I can’t afford a misstep. Ali’s in bad enough shape as it is. She muffles an occasional scream into my shoulder as her stomach roils and heaves. It only seems to be getting worse. My muscles are burning, but I keep going. Whatever’s happening to her, Miss Granger will know what to do. She has to. I can’t lose Ali again.

As I’m hoisting Ali into the cab of the combine, I hear the keys drop out of my pocket. “Damn it.”

I get down on my hands and knees, feeling my way around the discarded wheat stems, and I hear one of the stalks snap. I look up, afraid to see anything, afraid not to, but it’s pitch-black now.

“Clay, hurry,” Ali pleads.

I grope around in the dark. “Come on … please,” I whisper. As soon as my fingertips brush the cold metal, I let out a huge gust of pent-up air. “Got ’em,” I call out.

Gripping the keys in my hand, I climb into the combine.

“You ready?” I ask.

Ali’s still in a lot of pain, but she nods as she settles on my lap.

I turn the key; the engine roars to life, the headlights illuminating hundreds of bodies crowded in all around us. Ali screams, nuzzling her face into my neck. They’re just standing there in the wheat, staring at us, with rictus grins and those black eyes.

“Go … go!” Ali yells.

I shake off the terror building inside me and grind the tractor into gear.

Sheriff Ely staggers in front of the headlights.

“Wait,” he yells, waving his hands around.

His eyes are normal. He’s not one of them. I try to slam on the brake, put it in reverse, turn the wheel, but nothing’s working. I even pull the key out of the ignition, but it still won’t stop.

“Get out … get out of the way … move!” I yell, but Ely just looks up at me in shock as the combine lurches forward. There’s a horrific scream, followed by a huge bump as fresh blood splatters the windshield.

“Oh my God … my God … I killed him!”

I think about opening the door and jumping out, but Ali’s doubled over in pain. We’ll never be able to make it on foot in her condition.

The people are barely moving out of the way as the combine moves forward, like they don’t care if we run them over or not. Not that I could stop it, even if I wanted to. The combine has taken on a life of its own.

Through the blood-smeared windshield, I keep my eyes trained on the breeding barn. It’s lit up from within, like a beacon in the dark.

Just when I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to get Ali out of the moving combine, it stalls out about twenty feet from the barn. I jump out and help Ali down. Miss Granger’s standing outside, waiting, as if she’s been expecting us.

“I knew you could do it,” she says with a pleasant smile.

“No … you don’t understand … I hit Sheriff with the combine … he’s dead.” Ali groans in pain. “She needs help … there’s something wrong.”

“In here,” Miss Granger replies, as she motions inside to a bed of fresh-cut wheat covering the breeding platform.

I set Ali down. “There’s people coming,” I say as I hunch over, struggling to catch my breath. “Hundreds of them … they’ve come for us … just like my vision at the game. I thought this was over.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be here in time.”

“In time?” I ask as I check on Ali. “In time for what?”

A drop of blood lands next to Ali in the wheat. I’m looking at her body trying to figure out where it came from when Ali clamps her hand over her mouth and points toward the ceiling. I look up to see Tyler rigged into the breeding apparatus—the artificial insemination gun shoved down his throat. The priests are suspended from hooks on either side of him, their black robes swaying gently.

“Oh Jesus!” I shield Ali’s eyes. “You didn’t tell me about the priests. Why didn’t you tell me they died, too?”