Dead Harvest

  There was a rustling in the darkness, and Kate appeared beside me. She said nothing. She didn't have to. The anger in her eyes said it all. It seemed she'd hate me now, whether she chose to help or not. So long as we didn't lose another life tonight, I figured I could live with that.

  I grabbed her hand and pressed it tight to the wound in Anders' side. Kate recoiled slightly from my touch, but when I let her go, her hand stayed. 'I need you to put pressure on the wound – more than you think you need, OK?'

  'He's not breathing.'

  'I had noticed,' I said. What I was going to do about that, though, I had no idea. I hovered over Anders' still form, unsure. I mean, I'd seen it done before – in a movie or two – but the whole CPR thing was a little after my time. Honestly, I'm usually more concerned with halting breath than with restoring it.

  'Switch with me,' Kate said.

  'What?' I looked at her, confused.

  'Oh, for God's sake, switch with me!' She released the wound and grabbed my hands, shoving them in place. 'You always gotta be the hero, don't you?' She pressed her mouth to Anders' and exhaled twice. Then she placed her palms against his breastbone and pressed downward in a steady rhythm. I just watched in amazement.

  'I took a babysitting course, a few years back,' she said, and then once more blew breath into Anders' mouth. 'CPR was a requirement. Of course, that doesn't mean I know what I'm doing.'

  'You're doing fine,' I said. In truth, I had no damn idea, but I hoped to God that I was right.

  Again Kate pressed her lips to his. This time, when she released him, Anders sputtered and coughed, blood spraying red across his teeth and lips. The breathing was a good sign. The blood was not. Kate might have bought us a little time, but this kid was gonna need a doctor if he was gonna live.

  'That… wasn't…Pinch,' Anders said, his voice a brittle whisper, his eyes clenched shut against the pain.

  'No,' I said, 'it wasn't.'

  'Then who?' he asked, between panting, labored breaths.

  'A Collector, like me. They call him Bishop.'

  'I saw… I mean, I knew that something was different… that he'd changed somehow. I just figured it was the… the ritual. I should have said something. I should have tried to stop him…'

  I took his hand in mine. 'You did fine, kid. Now, though, I need you to save your strength – we're gonna get you some help. Just relax, and try not to speak.'

  'But Kate… is she OK?'

  I looked her in the eye. Truth was, she looked anything but. 'Yeah, kid – Kate's OK.'

  'Good,' Anders said, and then promptly lost consciousness.

  Kate checked his neck for a pulse. 'Still beating, she said, 'for now, at least. You think he's going to make it?'

  'No,' I said, 'but if he's gonna have a shot, we have to move now.'

'So,' Kate said, the brittle, frost-laden grass crunching beneath her feet, 'you knew that guy?'

  We'd only been walking a few minutes, headed south through the park toward what I hoped was the nearest street. With Anders' limp and blood-slick form cradled in my arms, it felt like we'd been walking for hours. For maybe the fifth time now, I hitched him upward, trying to re-establish my grip. But the kid was heavier than he looked, and the sheen of sweat and blood that graced his arms, his neck, his back, made it tough to hold on. The going was slow, and the makeshift bandage I'd juryrigged from the Flynn meat-suit's uniform shirt wasn't going to hold for long. We were running out of time.

  'Yeah,' I said, 'I know him a bit.'

  'So what – you guys stand around the water cooler, chat about the souls you've snatched, that sort of thing?'

  'Not exactly. Bishop is the one who collected me.'

  We trudged in silence for a moment. Finally, Kate broke it.

  'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I didn't know.'

  'How could you have?'

  'I don't know. I just – it's terrible, isn't it? Being taken, I mean.'

  This time, it was my turn to pause. 'Yes. Yes, it is.'

  'I swear I can still feel him. Clawing. Tearing. Struggling to rip free my soul.'

  'Listen to that feeling,' I said. 'For the collected, it never really goes away. If you're lucky, you came close enough, and it'll stick with you, too.'

  'If I'm lucky?'

  'Damn right if you're lucky. Bishop's not done with you yet, Kate. If you can hold on to that feeling, you might be able to sense him coming. It could give you the edge you need to escape him.'

  'So you can feel it, too? You can tell when he's nearby?'