Authors: Anthony Izzo
Evil Harvest (34 page)
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“I beat you back here. You really should lock your doors.”
He dragged her across the living room and out of the apartment.
Matt heard a woman’s voice, thin and reedy, echoing down the hallway of the cell block.
Now what was Rafferty up to?
He gripped a wiry, elderly woman above the elbow. Her hair was tied up in a bun, streaked gray-black. The struggle with Rafferty had wrinkled her cardigan and ankle-length skirt.
“You’re breaking my arm,” she said.
“You’ll be lucky if that’s all I break,” Rafferty said.
He produced a key from his belt and unlocked the cell door next to Matt’s, shoving the woman inside. She lost her balance and sprawled onto the concrete floor.
“You sure they’re aren’t any Boy Scouts or cripples you want to rough up while you’re at it?” Matt asked.
“Shut your hole.”
Rafferty slammed the door and the clanging noise bounced around the hallway.
The woman pulled herself to her feet and dusted off her sweater, as if dirty clothing were the only thing that concerned her right now. He looked away from her, trying to spare her some dignity, and her heard her mutter “Asshole cop” under her breath.
Good for you, lady.
Rafferty glared at him and stalked off down the hallway.
“You wouldn’t know my Harry, would you?” she asked.
“Gun shop Harry?”
“Yes.”
“I do. Know him, I mean.”
“You must be Matt.”
“How’d you know?”
She looked over her shoulder and stepped closer to the bars that separated the cells, lowering her voice to a whisper.
“I don’t know how good their hearing is, but it can’t hurt to whisper. Harry and Jill are alive. They’re holed up at the Best Western in Buffalo.”
Thank the Lord. Jill was alive.
“Are they okay?”
“A little battered and bruised, but otherwise fine. I brought them some provisions.”
“Rafferty wants them. They can’t come into town. If he gets all three of us it’s really over.”
“Well they’ve got enough firepower to level this place and put a serious hurt on those bastards, pardon my French.”
“God, the Harvest. I’ve got to get out of here.”
She peered over her shoulder like a child sneaking cookies from the jar. “This might help you.”
She plucked her sweater away from her chest, then slipped the other hand in and pulled out a snub nose revolver. He should have been surprised at an old woman producing a revolver from under her sweater, but somehow he was not. She seemed to be full of piss and vinegar.
“How did you manage to get that in here?”
“That stupid oaf probably figured I was just a harmless old lady.”
She handed him the revolver and he slid it under his mattress, smoothing it over as not to leave a bulge.
“Why did they bring you in?”
“Rafferty followed me, the weasel. And I was silly enough to let myself be followed. Lord, it’s cold in here!”
“He wants to get them too. They’ll be walking into a trap,” Matt said.
“Not much we can do sitting in here. But if we could use that gun ...”
“Let me think about how.”
Footsteps clicked down the hall, and Liza backed away from Matt’s cell and sat on the bed.
Rafferty appeared, took out his keys and opened the doors to Liza’s cell. She turned her head away, refusing to look at him. He had a lumpy paper bag tucked under one arm like a football.
“Let’s go.”
He dragged her to her feet and took her down the hallway to the room at the end of the corridor. It was the same room where Rafferty had taken Matt as a teenager and threatened to kill him if he squealed about the murder of his family.
“You’d better not hurt her, you son of a bitch.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rafferty said.
He pushed her into the room and closed the door. Maybe he was just going to talk to her.
Matt doubted it. He had to get out of here.
Fifteen minutes later, a red-haired cop came to Matt’s cell and instructed him to turn around. The cop opened the cell door. Then Matt felt his arm jerked behind him. The cop slapped on a cuff.
Matt considered the gun under the mattress, about making a move for it, but he didn’t know what had happened to Liza. He couldn’t abandon her in this hole.
The cop pulled Matt’s other arm back and completed the job. He was led out of the cell block and into a garage, where a beige car was parked.
The cop told him to sit down and gave him a shove to help him to the ground. Matt landed hard, jarring his tailbone on the concrete.
“Stay there,” the cop said.
“Like I have a choice.”
Five minutes later, Rafferty stepped through the door with a small cardboard box tucked under his arm. It was sealed with clear packing tape.
“Take this to your friends at the Best Western.”
So he
had
gotten information from Liza in that little room.
had
gotten information from Liza in that little room.
“Be back here in an hour. If you’re not, I’ll kill the old bitch. I’m not fucking around on this one, so don’t get cute on me.”
The red-haired cop stepped behind him, bent over, and unlocked the cuffs. Matt rubbed at his chafed wrists.
Rafferty handed him the box. It was light, not even a pound.
“What the hell is this?”
“A message. Don’t open it until you get there. The keys are in the car. Open the door, Clarence.”
The other cop pressed a red button on the wall and the garage door rolled open.
Matt got in the car, started it up and backed out of the police garage.
He screeched into the hotel parking lot, catching a sour look from the doorman. The guy was dressed in a bright red uniform that reminded Matt vaguely of the witches’ soldiers in
The Wizard of Oz
.
The Wizard of Oz
.
He parked the car, entered the lobby and stopped at the front desk. The clerk, a bronze-skinned woman, flashed him a smile and told him which room Harry was staying in.
Matt took the elevator to the fifth floor and stepped off, nearly crashing into the cleaning woman and her cart of mops and disinfectants. He stopped at 517 and knocked on the door.
Harry opened the door.
“Matt!”
Harry’s eyes bulged like moons and Matt thought the big man just might grab him in a bear hug. Thankfully he only shook Matt’s hand heartily.
Matt stepped into the room, brushing against Harry’s belly as he entered the room.
“What’s that?” Harry asked, jabbing his finger at the box.
“Rafferty sent it with me. We’ve got to hurry up—I’ve only got forty minutes before I have to be back, or he’ll ...”
“He’ll what?”
“He’s got Liza. I’m sorry, Harry.”
“That son of a bitch. How is she?”
“Holding her own. She snuck in a revolver. That’s some woman you got there.”
“That’s my girl,” he said.
“Where’s Jill?”
“I’ll summon her.”
Harry banged on the connecting door. Jill asked who it was and then opened it when Harry said, “Us!”
“Look who I found.”
Her eyes got bigger than Harry’s had, and she threw herself at Matt, pressing her face into his chest. He hugged her close with his free arm and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” he told her.
She stepped back, smiling, her eyes tearing.
“Now don’t go getting sentimental on me. I’ve got to leave in about twenty minutes.”
“What’s with the box?”
“Let’s find out.”
He led the way into Jill’s room and opened the desk drawer, digging until he came up with a pen with
BEST WESTERN
on its side.
BEST WESTERN
on its side.
Before opening the box, he held it up to his ear. He had set it on the seat in the car on the way here, and it didn’t sound like it was ticking, but you could never be sure. Better to be safe than to get blown to bits.
Satisfied it wasn’t a bomb, he used the pen point to split the tape, then pulled the flaps open.
There were wads of balled-up newspaper inside, and Matt pulled them out and tossed them on the floor. Underneath the paper was a small white box and a sealed envelope.
“Anyone want to do the honors?” he said.
“Let’s see the box,” Harry said, picking it up.
Matt tore open the envelope, while Harry opened the small box.
Harry took the lid off, sucked in air in a heaving gasp and backpedaled, sitting on the bed hard. The box landed on the table, remaining upright.
Harry’s face had gone dead pale.
“What is it?” Jill said.
Harry clamped his hand over his mouth.
“Look in the box,” he said.
Matt picked up the box and Jill peered over his shoulder.
It took him a second to realize what he was looking at, that what he was seeing was real, and not some grisly Halloween prop.
It was a severed finger, slightly crooked, sitting on a bed of wadded cotton. The skin was liver-spotted; and a gold wedding band rested below the knuckle.
Matt wanted to fling the package across the room, but he stopped himself. It was Liza’s finger, and to do that would be disrespectful, like walking on a grave. Instead he set it gently on the dresser and closed the lid.
Behind him, he heard Jill whisper, “Oh, my God. Matt, is she ... ?”
“She has to be alive. Rafferty said if I didn’t come back in an hour he would kill her. He needs her for leverage.”
“Read the note,” Jill said.
Matt removed the paper from the envelope and unfolded it.
Nice touch, don’t you think? Took me a while to get her to hold still, but once I started cutting, she lost some fight. The three of you turn yourselves in to me in one week. The place of surrender is St. Mark’s Catholic School, twelve midnight. I’ll expect Harry and Jill to show up. If they don’t, I’ll chop up Crowe and the old woman piece by piece and send them to you. If you surrender, I’ll let the old woman go.
Sincerely,
Ed Rafferty, Chief of Police
“We have to stop him and free you and Liza,” Jill said.
“I can work on getting the two of us out. Harry’s wife brought a gun into the jail,” Matt said.
“We’ll show up there, but we’re not gonna come in quietly,” Harry said.
“You’ve got guns?”
“Liza brought them,” Jill replied.
“Can we put together a quick plan?”
“Why don’t we just take these weapons and blow them to hell, get Liza out now?” Harry said.
“That won’t stop the Harvest. And if Rafferty senses something’s up he might kill her before we could bust her out,” Jill said.
“I suppose you’re right. I don’t like it, but I suppose you’re right. Now what’s your plan, Matt?”
“This is what we should do.”
Ten minutes planning to stop an army of devils. If they were going to succeed, they would need an angel on their collective shoulders. Better yet, a whole legion of them.
C
HAPTER
31
HAPTER
31
Matt pulled into the parking lot to find Clarence standing with his arms crossed outside the garage doors. He reminded Matt of a cigar store Indian, big and ugly.
Matt hit the brakes in front of the garage door, and the cop waved him out of the car.
“Slowly!” he said.
Once he was out, the cop instructed him to turn around, put his hands on the hood and spread his legs. He patted Matt down, giving him a little jab in the crotch when he reached Matt’s inner thighs.
“How’d that feel?”
“Piss off.”
He escorted Matt into the cell block, where Liza lay on her cot, motionless. At first he though she was dead and Rafferty had left her body there as a surprise for him. Her arm was draped across her forehead, as if she had a bad headache and was resting on her couch at home.
A piece of gauze was taped over the spot where her ring finger used to be. It was brown with dried blood.
Her chest rose and fell, the only sign she was still alive.
Clarence, the red-haired cop, unlocked Matt’s cell door and pushed him in. Did these guys think that you got in the cell quicker if they shoved you? It seemed to be the norm around here. Maybe they could start an Olympic event: the inmate shove and toss.
The first thing he did after Clarence was gone was slide his hand under the mattress and feel for the revolver. He had a tense moment when he couldn’t find it, but then he felt it. He had expected to turn and see Rafferty on the other side of the bars, dangling the gun, mocking him with it. But the cell hadn’t been searched, and their get-out-of-jail card was still tucked safely away.
Matt said, “How are you holding up?”
“Ugh.”
“That bad? Did the bleeding stop?”
“Yeah. The dear Chief of Police cauterized it for me with a propane torch,” she said. “But not before he jammed it in that toilet in your cell. I think I’m getting an infection.”
“Painkillers?”
“None. I think it might be infected,” she repeated.
She must be in incredible pain, pain beyond his comprehension.
He lowered his voice and said, “We’ve gotta get out of here. You bringing that gun in was a small miracle.”
“Thank heavens for them,” she said.
“We’ve got a plan. Just try and hold on.”
“I’ll do my best,” she croaked.
The door from the squad room opened and somebody approached the cells.
It was Rafferty; he leaned against Matt’s cell door and held onto the bars.
“They agreed to surrender. But you have to promise not to hurt Liza anymore.”
“What did the fat one say when he saw his old lady’s finger?”
“That he wanted to tear your guts out.”
“How quaint. They really agreed to turn themselves in?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Matt jerked his head in Liza’s direction. “And we’ll see if you let her go.”
“If everyone cooperates, I see no problems.”
“Uh-huh.”
Rafferty let go of the bars and walked away. Matt trusted him about as much as he would an angry rattlesnake.
Harry sat in a chair facing the hotel room door, his head bobbing, fighting the tight grip of sleep that wanted to pull him under. One of the shotguns was draped across his lap.
Jill rested on one of the twin beds, fingers twined behind her head on the pillow. She had a wonderful view of the ceiling tiles, and she’d resorted to counting the tiny dots in the panels to try and make herself sleepy. It hadn’t worked. The alarm clock read 2:15
A.M.
A.M.
She felt like she had downed a pot of coffee; every few minutes she twitched or rolled over, and her skin felt itchy. The pillow had lost its coolness and felt as if it were stuffed with knotted-up sweat socks.
Resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to get much sleep, she kicked the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
They had moved from the Best Western to the Adam’s Mark. Since Rafferty knew where they were staying, the switch would keep him off balance.
She stood up and looked out at the city lights, most notably City Hall’s top floors. They were kept lit at night, making her think of a king with a giant red electric crown.
She tiptoed over to Harry and shook him gently. His head jerked back and a snort erupted from his mouth. Jill had managed to talk him into staying in the same room for the sole reason that there was safety in numbers.
They’d had a long day, going shopping at the Main Place Mall, Jill buying sweatshirts and jeans, Harry flannel shirts. They also stocked up on toiletries: soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes and deodorant. The whole time they had constantly peered back over their shoulders, trying to look at everyone and no one at the same time.
Rafferty was miles away, but that didn’t make her feel any safer.
They had agreed to take turns standing guard, and Harry’s shift was over. He had dozed off, but she cut him some slack because she knew he must be incredibly worried about his wife.
Harry had been pretty quiet since getting Rafferty’s package, choosing to slip the ring off the severed finger and throw the remains in the Dumpster behind the Best Western. She could almost see the stress carving fresh wrinkles into his face.
“Hey,” he said, coming out of his doze.
“Go to bed and get some real sleep, Harry.”
“Every time I close my eyes I have nightmares.”
“You should get some rest anyway.”
“I’ll try.”
He rose slowly from the chair, handed Jill the gun and lumbered across the room, looking like a woolly mammoth slogging through a tar pit.
Jill took his place in the chair, trying not to think about the size of the task ahead of them.
What if we can’t get Liza and Matt out? Can we destroy a small army of nightmare creatures and get out alive?
What if we can’t get Liza and Matt out? Can we destroy a small army of nightmare creatures and get out alive?
Their lives were not the only ones at stake, for entire families would be slaughtered. Never in a million years had she bargained for this when she took the job at Lincoln Mercy Hospital.
She had the same numb feeling that she’d had when she found out her father had been killed. Was this really happening?
Unfortunately, yes.
For the hell of it, she picked up the phone off the nightstand and dialed her number, punching in the code for her answering machine when it picked up. While the tape rewound, she looked over at Harry. He jerked his head back and forth on the pillow and murmured in his sleep.
The first voice on the machine was her mother’s, whining that Jill wouldn’t call her back. Then her mother again, this time in tears.
The third message was from Dorothy Gaines, telling her not to bother coming into work, that she found a real nurse to do the job. If only that new nurse knew what she was getting into.
Her mother again, threatening to call the police, then a beep and no more messages. She hung up the phone and set it back on the nightstand.
Too bad, Mom
. She couldn’t possibly explain what was happening to her mother; she would tell Jill to seek help from a psychologist and say something like the job was getting to her.
. She couldn’t possibly explain what was happening to her mother; she would tell Jill to seek help from a psychologist and say something like the job was getting to her.
She returned to the chair, propped the shotgun against the wall and waited for the night to pass.
In the week leading up to the Harvest, Jill and Harry had hit the Mobil Station downtown, filling five-gallon cans with gasoline. Harry had stopped at Home Depot, picking up rags and a pair of tin snips. The two of them had also stopped at Tops Markets and purchased a case of Mason jars.
Harry rented a van from Avis so they could drive around with the supplies in the back and not draw attention to their cargo. The van also allowed them to work in relative privacy.
After they rented the van, they stopped and bought four Zippo lighters. Harry said they were the most reliable things ever made.
They had caught a news report about the fire at the cabin. It seemed the state police had cordoned off thirty acres of land around the site of the fire. Channel 2 reported a host of government vehicles, some of them military, driving in and out. A Humvee remained parked at the entrance to the cabin road. Not the civilian kind, either. This one had camouflage paint and a machine gun on the roof. Upon seeing the report, Jill reflected that maybe Rafferty and his followers would finally be exposed.
Harry had called St. Mark’s School to see if any events were scheduled for September 3, and they caught a break because the Fall Fair and Craft Show was scheduled for the day before the Harvest Meeting. That gave them the opportunity to sneak in their supplies without breaking into the joint.
Harry had the weapons resting on the bed, looking black, shiny and deadly. He had checked them again and again, cleaning, inspecting barrels and chambers, making sure they were ready to fire.
“I’d feel better if I could test a few rounds.”
“I don’t think hotel management would appreciate bullet holes in the walls,” Jill said.
“I’m worried about the van,” he said.
They had parked the van in a parking garage across the street.
“Most people will probably ignore it. And a six-dollar-an-hour security guard isn’t going to give it a second glance.”
“Pretty sad,” Harry grunted.
“Where will we park in proximity to the school?”
“I figure on the same street.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
She twirled her hair around her finger, thinking.
“Too suspicious. One of us is going to have to bring the van around the back and unload the supplies. If we do it on the street, someone might see us and call the cops.”
“You’re right. One of us will wait in the school. There’s a side door near the cafeteria and gym that we can use. We’ll pull the truck up there and unload. I think we’ll be safe because there’s nothing else on that side of the building. It’s a red door,” he added.
“What about a security system?”
“None. At least there wasn’t when I worked there.”
“You worked there?”
“After I got back from the war things were slow at the shop. So I took a part-time maintenance job at the school. Besides, the school will be open when we go in, with the craft fair going on and all.”
The supplies were ready to go. They had cut holes in the lids of the Mason jars with tin snips to allow a rag to be stuffed in. The two of them took turns in the van, fifteen minutes at a time, creating Molotov cocktails.
When they were done, they had two dozen Molotovs, two full gas cans, two shotguns, the M-16 and Harry’s forty-four magnum. Harry also had his fireworks ready to go; the plastic explosive, cord, blasting caps and the radio transmitters for detonation went into the bag. Would they be able to get out of the building before the Fourth of July show started? Jill wondered.
Jill thought about how she’d gone from hating guns, blaming them for the death of her father, to thinking of them as the reason she was alive right now. She had established an uneasy truce with them, not entirely comfortable, but able to fire one if needed.
Everything still felt dreamy, as if they were getting ready to go on a deer-hunting trip rather than fight monsters. If it was possible, she felt tired, battered, confused and jumpy at the same time.
Picking up on this, Harry said, “You’d better get some rest. Tomorrow’s the start of it.”
She took Harry’s advice and stretched out on the bed.
Matt’s back throbbed from sleeping on the lump in his mattress, but it was the only way to keep the gun concealed. If it meant getting out of here, then a sore back was a small price to pay.
The week had been uneventful, most of it spent running a film in his mind, rewinding it and playing it again. When he would make his move, how he would get Liza out, and how to hook up with Jill and Harry once they were out of here. Things might go as smooth as a Hollywood action flick in his mind, but real life was never like that. Guns jammed, ammunition misfired and no one ever got knocked out with one punch.
He had to prepare himself for any eventuality, because if he didn’t plan for the unexpected, they would be dead in a hurry.
Tension seeped into his head, a dull pounding sensation. He massaged his temples, hoping for relief and getting none.
Liza’s condition had grown steadily worse; she had become delirious, babbling about going back to the farm from time to time and moaning loudly. Matt feared she had gone septic from the infected wound. If they didn’t get her out of here soon, she would end up dead.
He had appealed to Rafferty to bring a doctor in and look at Liza, and he had gotten the middle finger for his trouble. That man was a real sweetheart, all right.
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