The Harvesting Read Online Free PDF

once been my neighbors.
    “ I’m sorry,” I said, and
having no other choice, I let the blade sing. Mrs. Fletcher was
closest to me. Taking a couple of steps back, I made a running
jump. I cleared the stairs, slicing off the top of her head as I
passed. I turned as I landed. My cut had been a good one. Her erect
body stumbled in a circle then fell. Mr. Fletcher let out a strange
howl and then lunged. With an under-hand to over-hand spin, the
shashka twirled through the air; I sliced his head in half. He fell
instantly. They both lay on the ground, jerking spastically. After
a few moments, they fell still.
    “ Grandma!” I screamed.
“Grandma!” I ran into the house, weapon in hand, but she was
nowhere to be seen. My mind half bent on Ian and the other half
worrying about my grandmother, I headed to the barn and the guns. I
grabbed the weapons, sliding the shashka back into the scabbard and
stuffing the Glock into a holster. I strapped the Colt around my
shoulder and took the safety off the Magnum, holstering it as well.
I grabbed three grenades and stuck them into my vest pockets. I
headed out of the barn. As I turned the corner, I found myself
face-to-face with what had once been my grandma. Her face was as
pale as the moon; her eyes were an occluded mix of pearl white and
veiny red. White froth dripped from her mouth.
    I heard my grandmother’s
voice inside my head: Kill me.
    I raised the Magnum. Just as my
grandma lunged at me, I shot her between the eyes. She fell with a
thud.
    You see, my darling,
kill-shot, I heard her say, and then I
heard her no more.
    Her body twisted once and then fell
into a peaceful slumber. I dropped to my knees beside her. Every
fiber of my being wanted to pick her up and hold her. But then I
remembered, the man from the CDC had said to avoid physical
contact. I saw she had terrible bite marks on her hands.
    “ I love you,” I whispered
and then rose, wiping tears from my eyes. I went to the tack room
at the side of the barn and opened the door. There I found a Yamaha
dirt bike, another of Grandma’s recent purchases. I jumped on. It
started with a kick. Careful to close and lock the gate behind me,
I gunned the engine and peeled down Fox Hollow Road.

Chapter 6
     
    Fox Hollow Road emptied at the base of
Morrigon Hill. I sped up Morrigon Hill, making a sharp right toward
the elementary school. I drove across the playground. At its other
end, I found myself perched at the top of Kelly Street which looked
down toward the community center. There were 50 or more undead
outside. The crush of them had nearly broken down the door. The
only other exit, the door to the medical center, was also
surrounded.
    Help them. I breathed deeply—in, out—I
turned the bike and gunned it.
    Moments later I dropped down onto Main
Street. Around me, five or six of the diseased were moving toward
the community center. I pulled out the Glock. “Brain activity,” the
man had said, “brain activity.” I raised the gun and fired directly
toward the brain as the undead lunged at me. The first three shots
were a hit. For the last two, I missed and missed again. Finally, I
took down the woman. Just as he reached me, I managed to hit an
over-sized man who I did not recognize until the last second as Mr.
Lewis, the hardware store owner.
    Distracted by the gun shots, some of
the undead at the community center turned toward me.
    “ Please, please help me,”
I whispered, not sure who I was praying to. I pulled out one of the
grenades and gunned the bike again. I dodged a few of the undead
who tried to grab me, getting in as close as I could to the
community center and the mass of undead crowded there, then slowed
the bike for a split second. Pull the pin. Toss. Hit the
gas.
    The bike tire squealed as I hit the
gas hard, turning toward the baseball field across from the
community center. Seconds later the grenade exploded. The bodies of
the undead flew everywhere. The roof of the community center porch
collapsed,