Evil Harvest Read Free Page A

humor.
    He hit the bottom and she followed.
    A crash thundered as brick scattered onto the roof, and they looked at each other, knowing that the assailant was out of the building and coming after them.
    To their right was the warehouse. To the left was the end of the property, where a hill covered in brown weeds led to railroad tracks.
    If they went up the hill, they could cut back around the front of the complex to where Matt had parked his car. If they went right, around the back of the warehouse, they would have to cut through the alley to get back to the car. The thing in the warehouse was not something he wanted to confront in a dark alley.
    “Let’s go up the hill,” he said.
    “Wouldn’t it be quicker the other way?”
    “I don’t want to get caught in the alley.”
    She pursed her lips for a moment, thinking it over. “Okay.”
    He scrambled up the hill, the weeds ruffling under his feet, Jill behind him. With every step, the pain in his ankle grew; the numbness in his shoulder had turned into icy pain that ran the length of his arm.
    “I’m sorry I got you into this,” she said.
    “Don’t be.”
    He heard the thing coming, its claws scrabbling on the pavement. It must have leapt off the building and onto the ground near the bottom of the ladder.
    They came to a gravel path that wound down the hill. It was dotted with broken glass, Styrofoam cups and cigarette butts. Matt watched the path, but looked over his shoulder every few seconds for any sign of the creature. They reached the bottom, where a buckled sidewalk led back to the parking lot.
    They started up the sidewalk, both of them breathing heavily, hearing the creature crashing through the weeds behind them. Reaching the car, Matt fumbled for his keys, dropped them and then picked them up. He opened the door, threw himself in, then reached over and unlocked the passenger side door.
    Jill got in and Matt stuck the key in the ignition. He had a horrible second where he thought that the car wouldn’t start, like in every slasher film—when the killer was about to bear down on the heroine, cars that ran fine the entire movie decided to crap out at the moment of truth. But he turned the key and the engine rumbled to life.
    Matt put it in reverse and stepped on the gas. The car whipped backward and the tires kicked up gravel and dust.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shape coming at the car and he gunned the engine, swerving onto Elmwood, the tires squealing. He cut off a red Mazda and the driver blatted the horn, shouting, “Asshole!”
    He got the car under control and the two of them sped away at fifty miles an hour. He passed a speed-limit sign that said thirty.
    The beast howled as they drove away, and the goose bumps returned to Matt’s arms.
     
     
    Rafferty walked out the door and down the police station’s concrete steps. He passed the flower garden, took a whiff of the roses and daylilies. Man, did they stink. He might have to let Rolf, Bob Fidori’s German shepherd, dig them up. How did people stomach the smell of flowers?
    He went around the back of the station, already sweating and wiping his brow. The temperature had been in the nineties all of August and the humidity at God knows what. Even at night it was seventy-five or eighty with no letup to the humidity. All that sweat made him feel like he had sprung a leak.
    He walked over to his cruiser in the parking lot and opened the door. He was happy to see the riot gun secure in its holder, and he relished the thought of using it on an Outsider someday. He bet their eyes would get real big right before he pulled the trigger.
    After rolling down his window, he started up the Caprice Classic and pulled out of the lot onto Elmwood. He accelerated to fifty, the engine humming under the hood.
    Rafferty pushed the car through two yellow lights but got caught at the next one. Slowing down, he pulled up next to a black Dodge pickup stopped at the light.
    Pennsylvania plates. Outsiders for