Harvest, Quietus #1 Read Online Free Page A

and I've told her often enough. I love her, and
Andy's one of the few men I really do like.
    I retrieve an old and much
loved Enya CD from the door pocket and slide it in the car music
player to chill out with on the ride back. There's nothing like
listening to this at loud volume after a cave dive. My chill level
hits the high heavens. What a fabulous voice she has, an unearthly
clarity and pitch which makes the hair stand up on the back of my
neck.
    My stomach grumbles loudly with need of
food, and a wave of empty nausea and light headedness rises inside
me. “B reakfast seems a real long time ago,” I
announce to myself. I can't dive on a full stomach, so eating is a
burning issue when I emerge from one. I grab a tube of fruity candy
and pop one in my mouth to keep myself going. “Thank God for
Lifesavers.” I'm always talking to myself lately. Perhaps I'm going
mad? I know I drive Lucy mad with my constant rambling.
    I perform a quick u-turn in the space
ahead and move forward, finally setting off. I give Nursery Sink
pond a respectful little nod of my head as I depart.
    My chest rises and falls with a few
deep breaths and my heart palpitates. I often feel like this after
a dive. I'm not sure how much is due to the aftermath of the air
mixtures affecting my breathing and the amazing experience I have
in the caves. The romantic inside me likes to think it's the
latter, the scientist thinks it's the air.
    It's a little overgrown along the dirt
track, not very often accessed, and that's a good thing, I
conclude, as I proceed toward the state road 50, about five hundred
yards ahead.
    I press down on the gas and pick up a
little speed, taking the narrow bends, curves and dips of the track
expertly and smoothly, with the assistance of my SUV's four wheel
drive. It may be old and battered but my Chevvy drives like a magic
carpet.
    I finally reach the junction of the
state road that leads to the main interstate about a quarter mile
east. With a quick look, I turn left and pull out, accelerating
along the blacktop grateful for the smooth surface to drive on. But
I start in surprise. Straight up ahead of me, a few hundred yards,
are two cars which seem to have been involved in a head on
collision.
    “Christ !” I say in
shock.
    Pulling up, a little way short of the
crashed vehicles, I stop.
    I sit there for a moment. There's no
one around. No police. Nobody. It must be a very recent event. I
turn the engine off and jump out, into the heavy, surrounding heat.
I don't like the sight of blood and whatever else may be going on
in there, but I manage to get past that. Lives may be at stake.
Hesitantly I approach the first of the two cars. My feet are
sticking to the tackiness of the blacktop, which seems to be
melting in the heat. The sticky sounds from my feet are the only
noise I can hear. I find the silence unnerving and disturbing. I
arrive at the first car, which has heavily tinted
windows.
    I can't see inside... and with a deep
breath for courage, I open the door.
    Surprisingly and thankfully, no one is
inside. I look for signs of injury, or damage. It's blood free and
completely intact. A strange smell invades my nostrils. It's not
entirely unpleasant. Kind of sweet, but cloying. But stranger
still, are the discarded clothes and shoes and the thick pile of
gray dust, spread mainly on the seats. It concerns and intrigues
me.
    What the hell is
it?
    I poke my finger in it and rub the
contents against my thumb.
    It's warm and grainy, but much finer
than sand. It's also a little bit greasy and sticks to my fingers.
I brush it off on my shorts and a quick shiver of revulsion runs up
my spine. I don't like this situation, or anything about it.
Pulling myself together a bit, I stand up on the car foot board and
crane my neck, looking to the car in front, which is also
unoccupied, and then further, over the top, into the distance. The
road ahead is empty and eerily still. The weird sky worries me and
the heat is humid and really