The Harvest (Book 1) (32 page)

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Authors: Anne Ferretti

Tags: #Sci-Fi/Apocalyptic

BOOK: The Harvest (Book 1)
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“Why’d she do it?” Colin asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe she thought those men were back.”

“Why’d mom do it?” Colin asked.

Zack turned to face his brother, hiding his surprise. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I want to know. You do. You know.” There was anger in his voice. “I have a right to know.”

 “Leave it alone Colin.”

“No. I’m not going to leave it alone damn it.” Colin stood up. “I found her that day. Not you. Not dad. It was me. I saved her. And I want to know why I had to save her.”

“Come on dude. It doesn’t matter.”

Colin stormed over to his brother and shoved him against the wall. “It fucking matters.”

Charlie moaned in her sleep.

“Keep it down would ya?” Zack warned.

Colin lowered his voice. “It matters.”

The brothers stared at one another, neither willing to give in. Zack didn’t see the point in drudging up the past, not that past, but Colin wasn’t backing down. 

“Outside.” 

Zack and Colin went out into the hall, closing the door behind them. Zack crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “You sure you want to hear this?” He hoped Colin would change his mind, but he nodded yes. “She was pregnant.” Colin’s eyes grew wide. “Yeah. When she told dad he wigged out. They had a bad fight and the ole man took off. I thought he was gone for the night, so I left to get cigarettes. When I got back, dad was there. He had mom in the bathroom and the son of a bitch was punching her in the stomach. She was bleeding a lot. I hit him over the head with the lid from the toilet tank. Knocked the fucker out. Wished it had been more permanent.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested?”

“I didn’t call the cops. I called Pauly.” Zack sighed. “That’s what you did. Dad was a made guy. If I called the cops, who knows what would have happened to mom, to us.”

“And that’s why she tried to kill herself?” Colin was almost too stunned for words.

Zack nodded. “After losing the baby, she was super depressed. I begged her to leave him, but she refused. She knew Bobby wouldn’t ever give her a divorce. He’d kill her first. So she figured she would beat him to it.”

“How pregnant was she?”

“Four months I think.”

“Do you know… What was…” Colin couldn’t finish.

“A girl.”  

Colin’s shoulders fell. “Why’d he do it?’

“Cuz he was a sorry asshole, who had no business breathing for as long as he did.” And, Zack thought, if someone else hadn’t shot him he would’ve gladly pulled the trigger and done the world that very favor himself. He only wished it had happen sooner, before ole Bobby used his mom’s stomach as a punching bag.

“Do you think she’s dead?”

Zack shook his head. “Dunno. But the odds are on yes.”

Colin nodded in agreement. It was the first time they’d spoken of the likelihood that she was dead, having up until that moment avoided the topic, whether by conscious effort or not, they just didn’t talk about her. Zack walked over to Colin and put his arm around his shoulder. They didn’t speak.

30 WORM HOLES

Austin ran to the holding cell, stopping to compose himself before he opened the door. He didn’t allow himself to think about his feelings. Not for his wife. Not for his son. Not for Madison. The only thought he allowed to enter his mind was how to end Disciple Morgan’s miserable existence and it wasn’t going to be quick.

He didn’t know everything Chase had done to Charlie, but he saw the initials MC tattooed behind her ear. A mark indicating she belonged to Chase. He also saw the faded bruises across her back, recognizing them for what they were. By the expression on Zack’s face it was obvious he was also all too familiar with the cause of those marks.

Inside the room Madison paced like a caged cat. Her head jerked up when Austin entered. At first she felt relief, but turned wary wondering which Austin she was going to encounter. He raised his eyebrows at her, his expression remained neutral, absent of hostility, absent of any emotion. “He’s all yours.” She headed for the door, deciding it didn’t matter which Austin was there, she didn’t want to spend time with either one.

“Sorry I took so long.” He said.

Surprised by his apology, Madison paused to look at him. “Is everything ok?”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Relatively speaking?”

“Not relatively.”

“Then the answer is no.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” Chase asked. He sat motionless on his cot, staring straight ahead.

“Was he a problem?” Austin asked, ignoring Chase.

“Other than he wouldn’t shut up. No.”          

“Ask him Maddie. Ask him about the file.” Chase commented, and was ignored.

“That got really annoying.” Madison replied, not letting on she gave a damn about the file.

“Do you want to know about the file?”

“Say yes. Please say yes Maddie.” Chase cooed, laughing madly when Austin threw him a glare. 

Madison blocked out Chase’s lunacy to focus on Austin. She saw nothing. No signs of what was going on behind his cold stare. No clues to guide her on whether she dared to ask or just let it go. “Do you know what’s in it?”

“I have an idea.” Austin answered.

“Aw. Come on Captain Reynolds. You have more than an idea.” Chase yelled out.

“Shut up scumbag.” Austin warned, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Ask me Maddie. Ask me.” Chase begged. “I know what’s in the file.” He added in a sly innocent voice.

“How do you know?” Maddie asked.

“Don’t talk to him.” Austin ordered, getting in front of Madison, blocking her view of Chase.

“Because I took the pictures.” Chase replied, smiling with satisfaction that his words garnered their sought after impact on the captain, who turned to face him. However, the look in Austin’s eyes was not the anger he expected his words to cause. When the captain took a step towards the cell Chase thought maybe he went too far.

“What did you say?” Austin stopped in front of the cell, his voice was deadly calm.

“Nothing.” Chase sat back down on his cot.

“You took what pictures?” Austin pulled out his knife.

Chase eyed the blade and consciously tucked his hands out of sight. “There’s no need for violence… 

“I’m going to give you three seconds to tell me what you know before I start cutting off body parts.”

“I don’t know anything.” Chase insisted. “I’m just a Disciple. A nobody.”

“After I cut off each finger I’m going to cauterize the wound. That way you won’t bleed to death while I’m removing your toes one by one.” Austin reached to open the lock.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Chase pleaded with Madison, who shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Austin unlocked the cell door and slid it open. “Three.” He stepped inside the cell. “Two.” He took one step towards Chase.

“Ok. Ok.” Chase backed up to the far end of the cot. “I’ll tell you.”

“Don’t feed me any bullshit.” Austin tapped the tip of the knife on Chase’s knee. “Bullshit equals pain.”

Staring up into those cold blue eyes, Chase believed Austin was ready to kill him and had no serious intentions of lying. Of course intentions could change, but Chase was no fool, nor would he suffer like a fool. He would tell the truth, as unbelievable as it might sound, he would lay it all out for the captain to hear. Once the words were out though he was sure he’d be a dead man, but better to die swiftly than to suffer needlessly.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, a fleeting regret made his tongue heavy and his decision to tell the truth less palatable. He thought of risking the truth in order to preserve the future life he had been promised by Father Roth. He would be a great leader, stern, but revered. The images of his fantasy world swirled around in his head enticing him like the sirens song to a lost ship. They were irresistible.

“One.” Austin sliced the tip of the knife into Chase’s knee, breaking through the material of his pants into his skin drawing blood.

 The sirens ceased. Chase decided his intention would remain on the straight and narrow, for now. “Ok. I’ll tell you.”

“From the beginning.” Austin demanded. “When the Sundogs arrived.”

Chase rubbed his face with his good hand. “Can I at least have a drink of water? Maybe a bite to eat? I’m very hungry.”

Austin keyed the radio. “Zack you read me?”

“Yep. Is Maddie ok?”

“She’s fine. Can you bring water and food for the prisoner? Over.”

“Roger that captain. Be there in ten.”

Austin left the cell, locking it behind him. He walked over to his backpack and picked it up. He turned to Madison, waving her over. “I want you to look at these photos of my wife.” He reached in the pack, pulled out a folder and handed it to her. He lowered his voice. “I believe they’re fakes.”

“Why do you…”

“I just do.”

“Right.” She took the folder from him. “In here?” She waved her hand at the table.

“Yes.”

Madison walked to the table and laid the folder down. She sat in the chair and stared at the folder. It was understandable why he didn’t want to see the pictures, but what was he hoping to gain by having her look at more grisly murder photos, especially if they were fakes. Madison stewed over this for a moment and then mentally smacked herself in the forehead. Of course, she thought, he wanted her to verify they weren’t real, because even fakes were more than he could handle.

Madison pulled her chair up to the table and opened the folder. Lying on top of the stack was an eight by ten of a woman standing on a beach. She wore a bright colored sarong over her swim suit. The wind blew the material against her body. She was smiling and waving at the person taking the picture. Madison assumed this must be Austin’s wife and he was the photographer that day. By the size of her stomach, Madison guessed she was five or six months pregnant at the time. 

“What’s her name?” Madison asked, realizing he’d never told her or ever said it out loud that she could remember.

“Roxanne.” He replied, feeling pain saying her name out loud. If he’d seen the photo, he could have told her Roxi was eight months pregnant and the picture was taken one week before he abandoned her, but he wasn’t looking.

Madison picked up the photo. Roxanne. She repeated in her head. Not what Madison had expected, but not a complete surprise either. Of course he would go for the soft, demure type. His opposite, someone to counter balance his hard personality. No matter, she told herself and focused on the details of the photo. She flipped it over, moving on to another photo of Roxanne on the same beach. Several more photos were similar. She glanced back at Austin. “These are all from before…before the Sundogs came.”

“Keep going.”

Madison sifted through several more photos, all of Roxanne. There were only a few photos left when she came to the reason why Austin didn’t and couldn’t look himself, why he told her to go on. The last several photos were graphic images of a woman, similar to those gruesome pictures in the other folders and to images she’d witnessed firsthand.

Madison covered the bottom photos with a close up of Roxanne lying on a bed, her eyes closed. She analyzed Roxanne’s face, the curve of her cheeks, her full red lips, and her tiny nose. On her neck, about half way down, was a small mole. Even that was cute Madison thought and chided herself for feeling the slightest tinge of jealousy.

Madison examined the photos again, but this time with a detective’s eye. Ugly emotions faded away, replaced by instinct and years of training. That mole on Roxanne’s neck again caught her attention. She pushed the picture to the side revealing one of a mutilated decapitated body. The clothes were similar to what Roxanne wore in another picture. The skin tone was even and the hand lying over the stomach was petite, like Roxanne’s, but not concrete evidence proving without a doubt it was Roxanne.

Madison held the photo up, then placed it to the side, and picked up the next. In this photo the head was intact and attached. The hair was blonde like Roxanne’s, but the rest of her face was obscured by blood and matted hair. However, the neck was exposed and there was no mole. There was no mole. Did she have it removed? Madison glanced back at Austin, who was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed.

She flipped back to the first picture of Roxanne. The mole was there. She looked at the picture of the dead woman. The mole was not there, nor were there visible signs of one having been recently removed. Madison laid out in a row the pictures of the dead woman and then underneath in a second row the pictures of Roxanne. Her eyes moved up and down across the two rows comparing details. Perspiration formed on the back of her neck and a drop slid down her spine. She absently wiped the sweat away with her hand. Austin trusted her to make the right call on the authenticity of the photos. She held the power in her hands to destroy him or fuel his hopes for a while longer.

Madison looked away from the photos just as Zack opened the door. Relief washed over her at the reprieve. She shuffled the pictures back into a stack, closing them inside the folder.  Austin never looked her way.

Zack rolled a cart into the room. “I brought food and drinks for everyone.”

Realizing her mouth and throat felt like sand paper, Madison gratefully accepted the bottle of water Zack handed to her. She didn’t notice the close attention he paid her or the concerned expression on his face. The weight of Austin’s world was on her shoulders.

Austin noticed Zack watching Madison, but his thoughts stopped there. Every second he waited, every second he was not moving towards his goal was time wasted. It was imperative to focus on the task at hand, which was to hear Chase’s story and then put plans into motion.

The food was laid out on the table. Fresh fruit, cheese and crackers, and a variety of packaged deli meats made for an easy to eat meal requiring no utensils. Madison prepared a plate for Chase, which Austin slid under the cell door and then handed him a bottle of water through the bars. “Food and water. Now get talkin.” Austin ordered.

“Yes sir captain.” Chase mock saluted Austin before bending over to retrieve his plate of food. He wasn’t really hungry, but asking for food was the only thing he could think of to prolong the inevitable, to give him more time to consider his options. He sat on his cot, nibbling on his food, rehearsing his story.

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