Dead Harvest

  'Yes,' I said.

  'Then how – I mean, with Pinch…'

  'I didn't listen to my instincts. I got too close to the job. To Pinch. To all of you. I got too close, and you can see where it's landed us all. You can be sure I won't make that mistake again.'

  'So if he's done it once before, what's to stop him from doing it again? I mean, how do we know that Anders is Anders?'

  'What's your gut tell you?'

  Kate frowned in concentration. 'I – I don't know. I'm still a little rattled, but it's fading. I mean, he seems like Anders. Still, that's not a lot to go on.'

  'It's enough,' I said. 'No way would Bishop have hitched a ride with Anders. The kid is badly hurt, and he might not make it. If he'd entered Anders, he might not find the strength to leave before it's curtains, and then he's fucked. Folks like me, we're happy enough with the living or the dead, but the dying, they're a whole 'nother matter. See, in death, the body expels any invading soul. And since a Collector can't exist without a body, that means when one of us dies, we end up reseeded somewhere else at random. Could be a freshly buried corpse half a world away. It could be a baby down the street, too weak to lift its own head, let alone give us the boost we need to jump away. So you keep listening to that gut – it's done fine by you so far.'

  Kate shuffled along quietly for a moment, her face set in a thoughtful scowl. 'Sam?' she said, finally.

  'Yeah?'

  'If he'd succeeded in taking me, would I be a Collector, too?'

  'Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. It's not for me to say.'

  'Better than the alternative, I suppose. You know, a lake of fire or whatever.'

  I looked at the crumpled, dying figure I held cradled in my arms. 'No,' I replied, 'it really isn't.'

21.

As we approached the edge of the park, headlights shone through the trees – beacons of hope sweeping past us in the darkness. It was late, and the traffic was slight, but I was confident we'd find what we needed. But the slog through the park took longer than I'd expected, and the kid was fading fast. I only hoped it wasn't too late to make a difference.

  With Anders' bloody, wheezing frame cradled tight to my chest, I broke from the cover of the trees, staggering out into the street. Behind me, Kate screamed, but I paid her no mind. The screech of tires pierced the night, and the air hung thick with burnt rubber. It drifted blue-black across the roadway, stinging my eyes. I blinked back tears, and squinted against the sudden glare of headlights.

  Looked like I found my mark.

  It was a Volvo station wagon, blue as sky beneath the streetlights, and it rocked to an awkward, diagonal halt just inches from where I stood. The driver, a woman in her fifties, was fumbling with a cell phone, her eyes wide with fright. I hoisted Anders over my shoulder, Flynn's well-muscled frame protesting under the strain, and broke for the driver's side door, yanking it open with my free hand and clawing for her phone. She was too stunned to resist. I snatched the phone from her hand, and tossed it in a lazy arc toward the woods. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the patch of woods in which it landed and me – filthy and bloodied in an undershirt and navy trousers, my only hope of passing as a cop in her eyes the uniform shirt currently pressed tight to Anders' wound – her face twisted into a rictus of terror.

  'T-t-take the car,' she said.

  'I don't want the car,' I said.

  'I… I have money.' She twisted in her seat, fumbling around in the back for her purse. I grabbed her wrist, and she turned, her gaze meeting mine.

  'I don't want your money, either. This boy – he's hurt. What I need is a ride.'

  'I don't,' she stammered, 'I mean, I can't –'

  'Do you know where the nearest hospital is?'

  She hesitated, but only for a moment. 'Yes.'

  'Then you can.'

  She stared at me a moment, her face a silent plea.

  'If you don't do this, he'll die.'

  That did the trick. She clicked the rear doors unlocked. 'Get in,' she said.

  I dropped Anders in the back, and gestured Kate in there as well. I climbed into the passenger seat, fetching Anders' blood-streaked knife from my pocket and laying it at ready across my lap. Our Good Samaritan didn't fail to notice. The blood drained from her face, and she gripped the steering wheel hard damn near enough to break it off, her knuckles bone-white.

  'You did this to him?'

  I didn't hesitate. 'Yes,' I said.

  'You're a monster,' she replied, not just a little bit of steel in her voice. 'A goddamned monster.'

  'Lady, you have no idea how true that is. And if you don't start driving, I swear you're gonna get the same.'

  Again her tires squealed. This time, the car lurched forward.

  'Easy!' Kate called from the back. 'He's seeping through his bandages. I'm doing my best to stanch the flow, but if you rattle around too much, I won't be able to keep the pressure on.'