Bitter Harvest (Harvest Trilogy, Book 2) (52 page)

The others in the passenger lounge had tried to persuade him to come with them on their run to safety. He had told them they were insane, had tried to warn them that it was a hopeless endeavor, but they didn’t listen. Watching from the concourse windows, he followed their progress across the parking lot as they joined hundreds, thousands, of others fleeing from the airport’s terminals. He even rooted for them, hoping that someone might be able to be saved from the nightmare that he had created.
 

His words of encouragement died on his lips as his almost-friends were torn apart by a fresh onslaught of the nightmarish creatures.

“No! No!” Kelso hammered his fists against the glass and his eyes misted with tears as he watched them die.
 

As he turned away, a huge orange and yellow fireball erupted on the other side of the terminal, and the windows on that side blew in. Kelso fell to the floor as glass shards rained all around him. He was deafened by the blast, and the concourse was filled with smoke that carried the smell of burning jet fuel and plastic.

Staggering to his feet, he made his way to that side of the building and looked out. Two airliners had collided on the taxiway. He guessed that the pilots of one or the other, perhaps both, had decided to ignore the airport closure order and tried to get their planes into the air. Or, worse, they had been piloted by harvesters. They had crashed into one another while trying to reach the main runway.
 

“It wouldn’t have mattered, you know.” His whisper was intended for the ghosts of the men and women whose bodies were now wreathed in flames, the fire burning so hot that it was melting the aluminum skin of the planes. He looked up as a pair of Air Force fighters thundered overhead. Even had the planes managed to take off, they would not have made it far.

It was then that Kelso heard the screech of harvesters as they entered the building, followed by a volley of shots from the airport police. Some had deserted their posts, but most had stayed. He gave credit to their courage as he himself fled.

With his lungs heaving with every breath, his heart hammering in his chest, Kelso ran as best he could, but there was nowhere to go. Every entrance to the concourse was now the scene of a firefight. He was trapped.

Then he found a nearby door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” that had been left ajar. Without hesitation, he pushed through it into a stairwell that led down into a basement service corridor.

Kelso had no idea where he was, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was finding a place to hide. He passed a set of bathrooms, but kept going, thinking that too obvious.

Then he came to a janitorial closet. Twisting the handle, he found that it was unlocked. He stepped inside and closed the door just as a blood-curdling screech echoed down the corridor from the stairwell he had just taken. He locked the door.

Not daring to turn on the light, Kelso inched his way back, deeper into the closet, using his shaking hands to guide him. He bumped into something, and there was a clatter on the floor. He stopped where he was and did his best to breathe quietly. His hands found what he suspected was a mop handle, and he drew it toward him. It was a pitiful weapon, but it was something to hold. From that, he drew some small comfort.

He waited.

In the corridor beyond came another screech. Then he saw shadows dancing in the light that seeped in under the door. He had no idea if there was only one of the abominations or more out there. He gripped his mop tighter.

A long, tearing-scratching sound came from the door, and Kelso nearly screamed in fright. The handle moved. Then stopped.

With a loud bang, the thing outside wrenched the handle from the door. Kelso bit his lower lip so hard that he drew blood, flooding his mouth with the coppery taste, but he remained silent.
 

Outside, there was a strange grunting sound. Then the shadows under the door danced again, and he heard the harvester retreat down the corridor.
 

It was gone.

Kelso stood there, shivering with the release of adrenaline as tears coursed down his face.
 

He didn’t notice the small shadow that momentarily blocked some of the light from under the door.

It wasn’t until he felt a searing, burning sensation in his left foot that he realized anything was wrong. He reflexively reached for his foot, trying to get whatever it was away from him. His fingers pressed into something soft and cool, like gelatin. Then his fingers, too, began to burn.

With a scream, he pulled his hands away. His entire foot was on fire now, and he’d lost all sensation in his toes.
 

Blundering toward the door, he tried to open it, but the handle came off in his burning hands, the other side having been ripped away by the harvester. He was trapped.

Brushing his hands along the wall, he found the light switch and flipped it on. The fingers of both hands were covered in what he instantly recognized as larval harvester tissue, with the main body of the horrid thing consuming his foot.

That was the last rational thought Adrian Kelso had before he collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.

* * *

“I am not leaving!” Vijay Chidambaram struggled, but Kiran pushed him back down onto the gurney. Vijay’s cat was in its crate, sitting on top of his legs. Kiran watched it carefully: it had already warned them of two harvesters among the people swarming around Begumpet Airport in the northern part of Hyderabad. Kiran had initially been ordered to get Vijay out through Rajiv Gandhi International Airport, farther to the south, but the Army couldn’t hold it against the combined onslaught of harvesters and panicked civilians. Kiran, Vijay, and the soldiers guarding them watched with tears in their eyes as Indian Air Force Mirage 2000 and Jaguar strike aircraft bombed the airliners and smaller aircraft that remained intact to keep them out of the hands of the enemy. Huge pillars of fire and smoke rose into the night sky as Kiran ordered his men to turn north.

It had been a long, terror-filled trek back through the city to Begumpet Airport, which was being held by two battalions of the 50
^th
Para Brigade. Kiran’s company of elite Black Cat special operations soldiers had been whittled in half during the fierce fighting of the last few days, and by the time they fought their way through to Begumpet, fewer than a dozen were left. He had been ordered to get Vijay, who was still recovering from his auto accident, out of the city. His commander had made it crystal clear that Kiran was to keep Vijay alive at any cost. As the only Indian who had any real knowledge of the harvesters, Vijay was considered a priceless national asset against the sudden holocaust sweeping through the southern part of the country and, as it happened, much of the rest of the world. His commander confided that he believed the plan was to send Vijay overseas to the United States, where he would rejoin his former comrades from the Earth Defense Society and hopefully find a way to stop these creatures.

And that is what had Vijay so upset: he didn’t want to leave his homeland.

“Yes, you are leaving!” Kiran told his cousin over the angry and terrified shouts of the crowd as the Army truck slowly bulled its way forward. His men stood along the side rails of the cargo bed, their weapons pointing into the river of people through which they passed. None of them wanted to shoot, but they would if they had to. They had done so several times already on this accursed night, and not all the targets struck by their bullets had been human. “Over half my men died tonight, protecting you. What you have in your head, not this,” Kiran brandished his rifle, “is the only thing that can defeat the enemy. If the Government tells you to go to America, you will. If they tell you to go to Hell, if that is the best place to put your knowledge to use, then that is where I will take you and that bloody cat of yours.” He took Vijay’s hand in his and squeezed it tight.
 

After another hour, they reached the first barricade the paras had set up on Begumpet Airport Road. The commanding officer, a grim-faced captain, passed them through the barbed wire and past the machine gun emplacements. High-output lights on poles and powered by small generators illuminated the crowd, which roared in anger as the barricade was closed.

As the truck rumbled down the empty road toward the airfield, there was a sudden volley of gunfire behind them, and people began to scream.
 

“Can’t they take anyone else?” Vijay was propped up on his elbows, looking back toward the barricade. “Are we going to leave all these people here?”

“We can’t take the risk. If we let some through, everyone will want through. It would start a stampede.”

Behind them, there was a sudden roar of voices over the gunfire.
 

“I think we just did.”

In the stark illumination of the lights over the barricade, they saw a wave of people surge forward, hurling themselves into the barbed wire and the bullets fired by the soldiers, who were still screaming at the civilians to stop. Like a living organism, the entire crowd of tens of thousands of people shifted against the defensive line, which suddenly snapped.

In the blink of an eye, the road behind the truck was filled with people chasing after them toward the airport.
 

“Bloody hell!” Kiran turned and yelled to the driver. “Hurry!”
 

As the truck accelerated, Kiran left Vijay’s side so he could guide the driver. They passed by the trees of the airport’s park, but instead of heading toward the passenger terminal, the truck took the road that led to the left side of the complex, where they came to another barricade and stopped.

A lieutenant who wore the turban of a Sikh stepped forward. “Captain Chidambaram?”

Kiran leaned over the side of the truck to speak to him. “Yes, I’m Chidambaram. Pass us through, then get the devil out of here! The main perimeter’s collapsed and there’s a mob coming right behind us. Save yourselves if you can!”

“Go on, sir! We’ll try to buy you some time!”

The young man stepped back and gave Kiran a sharp salute. Silently damning the man for a fool, Kiran couldn’t help but admire his courage. He snapped a salute in return as the truck rumbled forward. “
Jai hind!
”
 

The truck drove past the terminal complex and onto the tarmac, where a single Air Force Il-76 transport waited, its four jet engines already running. A cordon of paras stood around the plane, weapons at the ready.

Beyond the plane, the perimeter the para battalions had been holding along the northern part of the airport gave way, and thousands of people began pouring over the wall, running across the open fields toward the runway.

Kiran and his senior surviving NCO exchanged a look. “Allah help us all,” the older man said.

The driver brought the truck to a screeching halt near the rear of the plane and the cargo ramp, which was already lowered. Another young officer rushed up to Kiran as he and his men carefully lowered Vijay’s gurney to the tarmac.
 

“Sir! I’m Lieutenant Kapoor, sir. I’m to place myself and my men under your command.”
 

With those words, Kiran felt as if the weight of the entire world had fallen on his shoulders. He looked into the lieutenant’s eyes, and saw that the younger man knew what must come.
 

As if reading his mind, Kapoor said, “I’ll take my men and keep the runway clear, sir, if that’s all right.”

With a heavy heart, Kiran said, “Carry on, lieutenant.”
 

With a quick nod, Kapoor was off, ordering his men to the north edge of the runway. Like the other soldiers who had been guarding the airport, they would be left behind to suffer the less than gentle ministrations of the terrified mob and the harvesters.

“I’m sorry, Kiran.” Vijay gripped his cousin’s arm.

There was another round of automatic weapons fire near the terminal, and a few moments later the crowd that had pursued them down airport road flooded out of the side entrance onto the tarmac.
 

Kiran leaned down over Vijay. “Stay well, cousin.” Then, to one of his junior NCOs, Kiran said, “Get him aboard.”

“Kiran? You are to come with me!” Vijay reached for his young cousin, but Kiran stepped away, shaking his head. “Your commander ordered it! I heard him!”

Shaking his head, Kiran said, “There are times when even proper orders must be disobeyed.”

“Very true, sir.” The senior NCO chopped his young commander in the back of the neck. As Kiran’s body crumpled, the NCO caught him, holding Kiran under the arms. “You lot, get the captain and the doctor aboard the plane. The rest of you, with me!”

“Thank you.” Vijay’s words didn’t reach the man who’d saved his cousin’s life at the cost of his own. All through this horrible night, the NCO had stood guard over Vijay, yet he had never even learned his name.

A pair of men pushed his gurney up the ramp and into the plane, while another pair carried Kiran’s unconscious body aboard.
 

To the north, gunfire erupted as Lieutenant Kapoor’s men fought to keep the runway clear. A heartbeat later, the NCO and the remainder of Kiran’s Black Cats opened fire on the crowd approaching from the terminal building. Most of those they were shooting weren’t the enemy, only helpless and terrified civilians. Vijay knew then that the NCO’s sacrifice had not only saved Kiran’s life, but his honor, as well.
 

With a roar of its engines, the Il-76 began to move across the tarmac, accelerating onto the taxiway. Vijay was facing the rear of the plane as the cargo ramp began to close. The mob barely paused before sweeping away the rest of Kiran’s soldiers and turning to pursue the plane. Some of the people were quick, fast enough to come within a few meters of the still closing ramp, which was guarded by the last survivors of Kiran’s company.

Vijay’s cat hissed in its crate, and he stared out the maw of the cargo door, a band of fear clutching at his heart. While it was difficult to tell in the lights that illuminated the tarmac behind them, he swore that he saw the face of his dead cousin Surya, just before the cargo ramp closed.