Eve of Man (The Harvest Book 2) (13 page)

“When the human recovers you are to deliver him to the
Svan for harvesting.” Za said.

“I will bring him to Paru.”

Za pursed his lips. “This is not what your father has
instructed. The Svan are to take possession of the man. If you disobey, your
father will be very displeased,” he added thinking this might intimidate Eve.

“You do not need to tell me what displeases my father,”
Eve said.

“No, I suppose I do not, but I will tell you this, the
harvest is fast approaching. Need not I remind you what this means for the
Adita,” he responded, his tone that of a teacher instructing a pupil he
considered dimwitted.

Eve only nodded her head, ignoring the snickers coming
from the guards. She had many questions, but would not ask them of a mere
messenger. As for the females, the guards sent by the council, Eve knew she was
superior and took great satisfaction in the fact. If she’d decided to act upon
her desires, they would be lying headless on the ground, their smug expressions
frozen upon their faces. Today she would allow them to live for no other reason
than killing them now did not serve her purpose. In the future she hoped for
the opportunity to take action against them, perhaps on the battlefield. A
smile teased at Eve’s lips and the guards tensed.

“When will the human be ready?” Za asked.

“Thirteen days.”

Za, unsure if he should press for more, decided to let
it go. Agra could deal with the insolent girl. And she would have to be dealt
with soon, for the council grew weary and had deep-seated doubts about her son.
The child had been created for a sole purpose, but his purpose could not be
allowed to cultivate into something more powerful than the Elders themselves,
thus eliminating their necessity all together. This would not be allowed to
happen.

“The child will not be harmed.”

Za started, but quickly reclaimed his stolid demeanor.
“Careful where you tread daughter of man,” he replied, his words dripping with
contempt. With that obscure warning, he turned on his heel.

Eve watched them until they disappeared into the
shimmering air. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken out to Za’s thoughts, but
regret wasn’t in her to have. Actions led to reaction. Eve’s thoughts had moved
on to the next actions necessary. Her father was growing erratic as the time
grew shorter. She sensed desperation in his actions, but was not yet skilled
enough to reach the cause without detection. Whatever his fears, he had
suppressed them to the deepest recesses of his mind.  She could not concern
herself over her father, when other things required her immediate attention.

The F-350 Ford pick-up truck glided down the deserted
Alaskan highway towards Anchorage, towards hope. Kyle and McKenna didn’t talk
of finding survivors, not directly. Talking about something resulted in unwanted
reasons and doubts creeping in, the hope stealing, squashing, killing sort of
doubts. So they talked of nothing in particular, of things that mattered in the
moment, and never of things from the past.

They stopped at a gas station. Inside Kyle snooped
around for anything of use while McKenna used the restroom in the back,
shouting to him the whole while. On the counter sat a jar of pickled eggs. The
eggs floated around in pinkish red formaldehyde liquid. Kyle leaned in, taking
a closer look at the eggs. Through the pinkness Beethoven’s face swam in and
out of view. He pushed the jar aside revealing a rack filled with CDs. Along
with the master, as McKenna called him, were a consortium of artists ranging
from rap to country. Kyle grabbed them all, shoving them in his pack before
McKenna returned.

“Ready Freddy,” she announced.

“Let’s hit it then Freddy Ready,” Kyle kicked back at
her and she laughed at him. “What? That’s not right?”

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too
old to understand.”

Once back on the road Kyle surprised McKenna with the
CDs. Her squeals of delight almost broke his eardrums while bringing an ache to
his heart. His hand absently went to the picture in his breast pocket.  He
pulled it out.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“A picture of my mom and sister.”

“Can I see?”

Kyle handed her the photo. “That was three years ago.”

McKenna examined the picture. The girl looked to be
Kyle’s age at the time the photo was taken. They stood in front of a sign that
read Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain. Kyle’s mother was very pretty, but looked as
if a brisk wind could whisk her away. McKenna wondered if she’d been sick, but
didn’t ask Kyle. He always looked so sad whenever he took out the picture.

She returned the photo. “What’s their names?”

“My mom’s name is Gisela, she’s German, and my
sister’s name is Grace. She’s my twin.”

“What about your dad?”

“Died when I was five. He was a pilot. Small planes,
crop dusters, what have you. Anyway, he was caught in an ice storm and crashed
somewhere in the Rockies. They never recovered his body.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Life happens the way it does in the order
it does whether we agree with it or find reason in it. Shit happens.”

“Right. Shit happens,” she agreed.

“No cussing young lady.”

“Shit is not really a cuss word,” she informed him.

“So you know the origins of the word shit?” he asked.

“Who doesn’t? Duh.”

And over the next thirty miles Kyle learned more about
the word shit than he ever thought possible.

“You sound like a human Wikipedia.”

“A Wiki what?”

Kyle glanced at her. “You’ve never heard of
Wikipedia?”

She shook her head.

“Wow. No internet in the wilds of Alaska?”

“We didn’t have it. Dad said he could provide
nourishment for our bodies or mind numbing crap on the internet. We chose nourishment.”

“So no internet,” Kyle mused.

“Jessica Hornet’s Nest had internet.”

“Hornet’s nest?”

McKenna laughed. “That’s what I called her. Her last
name was Horne. “

“You weren’t friends?”

 She shook her head, but said no more and Kyle didn’t
pry. He remembered grade school and high school. Kids could be mean. They sank
into a relaxed silence as the truck’s speakers kicked out Symphony No. 9 by
Dvorak. Kyle had no idea who the guy was, but his symphony wasn’t too bad and
Kyle found himself developing a new appreciation for classical music. McKenna
wiled away the miles writing out Beethoven’s piano concertos or rewriting the
tunes of famous rappers, turning them into hilarious country songs. Kyle
discovered not only was McKenna a wiz on the piano, but her vocals had a range
that would put a mockingbird to shame.

The day and the miles flew by in a state of relative
ease. They’d stayed the night in a small town the night before, but this
stretch to Anchorage was too long and they would have to camp in the truck.
Kyle had discussed this with McKenna before they hit the road. She’d accepted
the news in a calm manner, reasoning through it until it settled in her mind as
being the only option. 

 Ahead Kyle spotted an abandoned tow truck. He eased
the Ford up alongside the truck and peered inside the cab. He breathed a sigh
of relief that it was empty and pulled the Ford in behind the tow truck. He backed
in at an angle to give the appearance of randomness. He didn’t give much
thought to the intelligence of the aliens and without having any solid facts to
go on he applied common sense and hoped for the best. Besides if his logic was
off base McKenna was quick to point out the flaws, advice to which he accepted
without argument. Her average so far was one hundred percent accurate. He
didn’t bet against those odds.

“Here you go.” Kyle handed her a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich. “What do you want to drink?”

McKenna shook her head.

“Nothing?”

“I’ll have a little water right before I go to sleep.
There’s no bathroom and I’m not using the bucket.”

“Ok.” Kyle bit into his sandwich and chugged down some
water. “What about in the morning? You’ll have to pee then.”

“Gross. I’m trying to eat,” she exclaimed.

“Sorry. Forgot how sensitive you little chicks are.”

They finished their meal and climbed into the
backseat. Kyle set the battery powered heater between the front seats and
turned it on low. McKenna secured the foil curtains that covered the windows
before propping up against her pillow and curling up her legs to allow Kyle as much
bench space as possible. Kyle did the same on the opposite side, except his
legs stretched all the way to McKenna’s end where they rested on a Styrofoam
cooler wedged between the seats. They would have been more comfortable in the
back, stretched out under the camper shell, but Kyle didn’t want to be where he
couldn’t jump into the driver’s seat if need be. If he’d known the Ford was no
match for the aliens he might have opted for comfort instead.

Kyle crossed his arms and McKenna propped one of hers over
his boot. “What’s Cheyenne Mountain?” McKenna asked.

“Huh? Why do you ask?”

“The sign in the picture, behind your mom and sister.”

Kyle chuckled. Of course she would notice the sign.
“It’s a military base built inside a mountain. We were going on a tour. It was
right before I left for Germany.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

“For starters. The last time I spoke to my mom they
were gathering up civilians to take to the mountain for safety. She was afraid
they wouldn’t take her because of her cancer.” Kyle’s voice trailed off. He’d
never told anyone about his mom’s illness, not even Will and Ada. He didn’t
have a reason for hiding this from them, other than he didn’t want to be
consoled or told things like she was in a better place and he shouldn’t worry.
Her being in a better place was not what kept him awake at night. The ghosts
haunting him and the sorrow McKenna saw in his expression was for the suffering
he felt certain she’d went through prior to breathing her last breath. His only
solace lying in the fact Cheyenne had a highly advanced medical facility and
her status as a soldier’s mother might have at least garnered her a warm bed.

“I hope we find your mom and sister,” McKenna replied
in earnest.

Kyle turned to fix his pillow and to hide his shamed face.
What a giant self-absorbed shit ass he was, never once asking about her family.
All he knew was her mom wanted her to be country music star and her dad worked
his ass off. He thought back to the layout of the house, trying to remember how
many bedrooms were in the house. Did she have any siblings? He had no idea. He
turned back to apologize, but she was already fast asleep. Kyle sighed. An
entire year she’d been alone and the first human she encounters is asshole Kyle
Bosch. He’d have to do better by her and promised he would from then on out. He
reached over and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Sleep didn’t come for him
until many hours later.

The next morning McKenna made Kyle sit in the front
and promise to not move while she took care of her personal needs. He shook his
head at her after she’d jumped out of the truck. Women, even at a young age,
were queer complicated creatures.

“Ready Freddy,” she announced and slammed the truck
door.

“Time to roll Freddy Ready,” Kyle answered back.

“We should arrive in Anchorage by noon. They have a
Best Western Hotel. I want my own room. I’m going to stretch out on the bed and
order room service. Hot chocolate, blueberry pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled
eggs.” She licked her lips. “No scratch that. I’m going to order one of
everything from the menu and eat a little bit of each. Like the buffet we went
to every Sunday after church at Terry’s Wilderness Room. It was my dad’s
favorite place.”

 This reminded Kyle of his self-made promise, but
despite his good intentions he had no idea where or how to start being a
sensitive guy. He glanced over at her. She was elaborating on about all the
exciting things she would do at the Best Western and paying no mind to his
discomfort. He let it go for the time being and listened with interest to her
visions of grand hotel living. All pretend of course. Neither one had
expectations for anything good let alone grand, fun or exciting. 

The miles flew by, the truck cruising along at a safe
speed of forty, only slowing if Kyle had to maneuver around an abandoned
vehicle. They stopped once to get gas and stock up on water. The sign for
Anchorage loomed ahead. It was a quarter to twelve. McKenna’s odds were still
spot on. The knot in Kyle’s stomach twisted tighter. He almost hoped there
wouldn’t be anyone alive. A crummy thing to hope for, he knew, but finding
survivors in post-apocalyptic US was a crap shoot. People acted funny in good
times. Bad times turned funny into crazy. These times were worse than bad and would
most likely bring out the mean in folks, in particular those who, prior to the
alien’s arrival, had lived according to society’s rules only out of necessity.
Removing the constraints of polite society was like removing the straight
jacket off a nut case, crossing your fingers and hoping for the best. A crap
shoot for sure, Kyle thought again as he eased the pick-up off the highway onto
the exit for Anchorage.

 The first sights on the city outskirts promised all
they had expected. Corpses enclosed in coffins of ice cluttered the roadways.
Kyle wanted to tell McKenna to not look, but she was less fazed by the macabre
than he and gazed out the window at the passing dead. Her face remained
expressionless until Kyle turned onto Caribou Avenue and the Best Western sign
came into view.

“There it is!” she hollered.

“I can see.”

“Sorry,” she replied without taking her eyes off the
prize.

Kyle pulled into the semi-circle drive leading to the
entrance and eased the pick-up around an abandoned station wagon that was
blocking half of the drive. By the looks of things he knew room availability
wouldn’t pose a problem. He backed into an open parking space and shifted into
park, but didn’t cut the engine. Looking out the window at the empty street in
front of the hotel, Kyle felt the city’s desolation enveloping them. In the
distance, he saw a lone figure standing in the middle of the street. He
squinted and opened his eyes. It was a woman, maybe, dressed in black with eyes
blacker than night. She seemed to float down the street towards them.

“Mr. Kyle?” McKenna tugged on his sleeve.

“Huh.” He turned away for only a second, but the
figure had vanished. “Did you see that, that person?” He wasn’t even sure it was
a person.

“What person?” McKenna jerked around in her seat,
looking around in all directions. “I don’t see anyone.” She turned back to him.
“You ok?”

Kyle shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just tired.”

“Let’s go inside then silly.” She reached for the door
handle.

“Wait.” Kyle grabbed her arm.

“What’s wrong?”

Kyle pulled a small hand gun from his backpack. “Do
you know how to use one of these?”

“Sure. My brother showed me.”

“You had a brother?” Kyle blurted out and felt his
cheeks flush.

“Yeah.  He was older than me, but he taught me a bunch
of stuff anyway. I know how to skin a deer and shoot a bow and arrow. I don’t
like killing animals, but dad says either you kill them or go hungry.”

“I’m impressed,” Kyle replied. He didn’t know how to
do either of those things, but he did know guns. He checked the gun’s safety,
flipped it around and handed it to McKenna. “If you have to use it, do you
think you can?”

“You mean on a person?” She held the gun in both hands
feeling its weight. “I don’t know.”