The Harvest (Book 1) (4 page)

With a bit of prying, Austin extracted Mitch’s phone. He covered his friend’s body with his jacket and left the hangar. Outside, he waded through a foot of snow to reach his truck. A blustery wind took him by surprise, knocking him sideways. Holding on to the side mirror he couldn’t help pausing to stare. In a matter of fifty minutes the landscape has been transformed from a serene tropical paradise to winter bedlam. Large snow drifts were stacked and packed up against the planes, making the metal giants appear as small snow covered hills scattered about the runway.

Mitch’s phone rang startling Austin back to reality. He yanked on the driver’s door which was already frozen stuck. After a few hard tugs it flew open throwing him off balance again. Heaving himself into the truck, Austin answered Mitch’s phone while starting the engine and cranking the heat on high.

“Major Howard?” A voice shouted through the static.

“No. Captain Reynolds. Who’s this?”

“General Roth in Colorado Springs. Where’s the major?”

Austin sat taller. “The major’s dead sir.”

“Well damn it to hell.” He shouted. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with Commander Larson since dawn. We’ve been goin’ down the list and you were the first to answer. What’s your status Captain?”

“Sir, I just left a hangar full of mutilated bodies and Daytona looks like Denver in January. That’s my status sir.”

“What about Larson?” Roth asked as if Austin had just delivered a traffic report. “Was he in there?”

“Not that I could see. But some of ‘em were in bad shape sir. Looked like they’d been shredded in a blender.” If Austin expected a reaction from the general he was disappointed.

“I need you to gather all your men and…”

“Excuse me sir, but there aren’t any men to gather. They’re all dead.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Sir, are you still there?”

“Yeah.” He replied with less gruffness.

“Sir, are we under attack?” Austin thought he knew the answer to this, but hoped the general would shed some light, provide a few details.

“Nothing’s been confirmed. They...they came through and...” Static covered his voice. “All we have right now are reports of missing and dead people. No one has seen or heard a damn thing. Other than the sundogs.”

“Sundogs sir?”

“No nothing. I mean nothing, you know, just reflections on ice crystals around the sun. An atmospheric phenomenon. Not uncommon, except for today. Except for…”

“My wife asked about those this morning.” Austin said out loud, but more to himself. “What do you mean except for today sir?”

“Well for starters, they’re still there. Sittin’ above the horizon. Not goin’ up. Not goin’ down. And for enders, they’re still fucking there. Not doing a god damn thing.”

“Some sort of aircraft maybe?”

“Yeah…maybe that’s how… Anyway it couldn’t be helped.” Roth replied, not making sense. “Look captain, try to find your commander and anyone else you can round up, especially woman and children. Get to a safe place where you can defend yourselves if ya have to.”

“Yes sir.” He waited for more directions. None were given. “Is that all sir?” Austin wanted to ask why the women and children, but the general was again speaking.

“For right now it’s all I got. Plans are being laid. The future’s in my hands. I have been chosen to…” He paused. “I’ve ordered everyone under the mountain, if you don’t hear back assume you’re on your own. You get the opportunity Captain you make your way to Cheyenne, to Section Seven.”

“Section Seven sir?” Austin had been to Cheyenne many times, but never heard of Section Seven.

“Classified.” The general said and then began rattling off instructions on how to find the Section, but was cut off before he could finish.

“Sir?” Austin waited, but no response came. “Yes sir.” He automatically replied.

The general’s name on the screen stared back at him, as if it had eyes and waited for Austin to take action. He contemplated calling his wife. However, a deeply engrained sense of duty demanded he follow orders first, but the tingle in his spine was saying to hell with orders. It screamed at him to go find his wife, find somewhere safe to hide, because some serious shit was rolling across the land. A mental tug of war ensued in Austin’s mind for the briefest moment. In the end, as always, duty was the victor.

Shifting the truck into gear, he headed for base headquarters. Progress was a slow go as Austin maneuvered the vehicle around snow drifts. He squinted to make out the shapes in front of him, passing by one abandoned vehicle after another. They were all empty. In fact, that he could see, there were no signs of life anywhere.

Headquarters was located in an older, but still impressive two-story Spanish style building. The entrance was flanked by flag poles waving the flags of various countries. The flag’s cloth already tattered from the barrage of snow and wind. A few clay roof tiles had blown off shattering on the street below. The burnt orange clay stood out boldly against the snow.

Austin made his own parking space in front of the steps. He wasn’t concerned anyone would care, but wished someone would. He’d welcome the opportunity to debate with someone over his parking spot, but no one did.

Inside the building, Austin was greeted by an overturned chair, a half eaten doughnut and spilled coffee at the reception desk. A quick departure or maybe an evacuation, were his first thoughts. Austin walked past the reception desk and down a corridor with offices on either side. The walls were splattered with blood, but unlike the hangar, there were no mutilated bodies to explain the blood.

He entered an empty office and walked over to the desk.  A full cup of coffee sat on the corner, steam rose from the dark liquid. The phone’s receiver dangled down to the floor. He absently set it back in its cradle. An open desk drawer revealed a purse. Austin dug around in the purse, pulling out a cell phone.

Recent calls listed a call from a J.T. at 8:02 and a call to J.T. at 8:23. The current time read 9:42. Out of curiosity Austin called J.T. With the phone on speaker, he set it on the desk and continued to search for clues. After several rings J.T.’s voice mail picked up.

A search of the remainder of the building turned up more empty desks, more purses left behind, more suit jackets hanging on back of chairs, and more cell phones with recent calls that took place between eight and eight thirty. In all cases the walls and floors were decorated with splattered blood. Austin returned to the front of the building. He fished out Mitch’s phone and called General Roth. On the other end the phone rang nonstop. No one answered. No voice mail picked up.

With the phone held to his ear, Austin walked over to the double glass doors that led back out to where he’d parked. The outline of his truck was near impossible to make out. Deep in thought, he watched the snow fall and listened to the endless rings.  A disturbing ‘what if’ brewed deep in his mind. It swirled about, but didn’t come forward. Austin wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t allow himself to ask that particular ‘what if’, because he knew the wrong answer might derail his commitment to doing his duty.

A pained expression crossed his face just before a jolt to his spine knocked him to his knees. He opened his eyes to see Roxi standing naked in the snow, holding a baby, their baby. All around her the snow was dyed crimson red. Paralyzed against the glass, his eyes glued to his wife’s image. She glanced over her shoulder; a terrified expression covered her face. She clutched the baby close, shaking her head at whatever was approaching. When she turned back around she was no longer his wife, she was Eve holding the baby. Eve beckoned to him like always, her pitch black eyes boring into his soul.

The vision wavered, snapped and was gone. Austin leaned against the window, his breath fogging the glass. He knew in that very moment that Roxi was gone, taken. The vision was all the confirmation he needed. His mind furiously calculated how much time he had left. Roxi had three weeks before her due date. He recalled the image of Roxi and the baby, his boy. He focused on his son. Judging by his size, Austin guessed he was at least a year old, maybe a year and a half.

The snow fell fast and heavy. Austin’s truck was no longer visible. Through the torrent of snowflakes a large object plummeted from the sky, falling with a resounding thud on top of a vehicle parked on the side of the street. The vehicle’s alarm began to pulsate across the airwaves.

3 LUKE

Baton Rouge, Louisiana

7:37 am

Lucas Taylor Jr. sat at the kitchen table pounding down a breakfast fit to feed a small army. Eggs, bacon, pancakes and homemade biscuits smothered in sawmill gravy.  Across from him sat Luke senior, an older, well worn version of his handsome son. He sipped hot tea, while glaring at his bowl of cereal and the carton of skim milk parked in front of him.

“You gonna make my game next Saturday right?” Luke didn’t look up from his plate.

“Course I am. You’re the startin’ quarterback ain’t ya?” Luke senior demanded, turning his attention and a smile on his son.

“Yes sir.” He replied with confidence and the arrogance that most young people possessed.

“Ya’ll are as good as ya were last year, maybe better even. You’re sure as heck gonna be playin’ for the national championship again. Ain’t nobody better than LSU last year nor this year. Not Bama. Not nobody.”  He reached across the table for a piece of bacon, but his wife intercepted, handing him a plate of fresh fruit in place of hog fat.

“Do you want to be watchin’ your son play from a hospital bed? You know what Doc Jensen said. No fat. No grease. And no beer.” Pam Taylor demanded hands on hips.

“I might as well be good as dead now.” He threw his spoon down. “And by God woman I’m gonna have me a beer on Saturday.”

“You go right on and have you a beer. Have twenty. But if you drop dead from a heart attack I’m gonna step right on over you and go shoppin’ with momma”. Pam snatched the bacon from his hand and threw it to the dog.

“What? I ain’t never.” He grabbed a biscuit, shoved it in his mouth before Pam could stop him. “And you hate shoppin’ with your momma.” He grumbled through his biscuit.

That may have been the case, but she ignored this comment and turned her attention towards her son.  “Lucas honey, don’t you go runnin’ off yet. I haven’t finished foldin’ your clothes.” She walked out of the kitchen giving Luke senior one last warning glare.

Making sure she wasn’t coming back any time soon, Luke Senior wasted no time chomping down three pieces of bacon, barely taking a moment to chew before swallowing.

“Don’t let him eat none of that bacon.” Pam shouted from the laundry room.

 Luke senior gave the quiet sign to his son. Lucas disapproved, but held his tongue. He wished his dad would adhere to the diet. He’d already had one heart attack and looked to be on his way to a second if he didn’t shed a few pounds.

“Your momma worries too much. I’m as healthy as a horse.” He boasted, patting his large, but solid belly with pride.

“Doc said your cholesterol was super high. You can’t just keep foolin’ around with this stuff.”

“Now son, ain’t nothin gonna kill your daddy.  He’s too strong. Too stubborn. And he comes from a long line of…”

“Champion stock. Ain’t no one has long livin’ genes like a Taylor.” Lucas finished for him. It was the same thing he’d said from his hospital bed while fighting for his life after his first heart attack, and the same thing he would repeat every time the subject of his health became a topic of conversation.

“Well it’s the gosh durn truth. Anyway, enough about hogwash medical nonsense. What about you and Emma? You heard from her since she went to Hollyweird?”

Lucas shook his head, turned away from his dad’s piercing gaze. He didn’t want to discuss Emma with his dad or anyone for that matter. She was out of his league and he never understood why she’d bothered with him when she could have any guy she wanted.

“You called her yet?” He demanded.

“No sir. I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? You’re nineteen. You ain’t old enough to be busy.” He snorted at the thought. “You’re chicken shit is what you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Then call her.”

“I’m not gonna call her. Besides I have a girlfriend.”

“Who?”

“You don’t know her. She’s a cheerleader and…”

“A cheerleader? What! I bet her daddy don’t own half the south and then some. I bet she ain’t smart like that Emma neither.”

“Is that why you care so much about me callin’ Emma? Cuz her family’s got money?”

“Didn’t say that.” He looked down hiding his red face. “It don’t hurt none though. And Emma is an only child.” He added, not too ashamed to point out the obvious.

Pam returned in time to hear the end of his comment. “What’re you two talkin’ about?” His mom set a basket full of clean folded clothes next to Luke and eyed the bacon pate with suspicion.

“Thanks mom. And he’s harrassin’ me again about Emma.”

“Oh! Have you heard from her? I just love that girl. She’s a bit young right now, but smart as a whip. Bet she could run circles around your little cheerleader friend.”

“Mom! Kirsten’s smart.”

“What’s her major? Home Economics?” Luke senior bellowed out, finding his comment funnier than anyone else did.

“That’s not even a major. And she’s studying biology if you have to know.”

Pam placed her arm around Luke’s shoulders. “I’m sure she’s very nice. You just make sure to use protection.  I’m not ready to be a grand momma just yet.”

Lucas almost choked. “Gah mom. I gotta go. See you clowns on Saturday.” He kissed his mom on the cheek, playfully punched his dad’s arm.

“We’ll be the ones wearing purple and yellow.” His dad gave him a soft punch in return.

“Oh yeah. You’ll be real easy to spot.” Luke grabbed his clothes and headed out the door.

A restored older model Mustang sat in the driveway. He reached in to set the clothes basket in the back seat and his hand passed through a rainbow of light. Setting the basket down to check it out, he moved his hand in and out of the light, following its path out the rear window.  His eyes grew wide.