The Harvesting by Melanie Karsak

the interstate—unless they decided to
swim—which was the main route into our town. The barricades at
either end of Main Street were now in place. A mess of old
vehicles, scrap metal, farm equipment, and barbed wire and fencing
ran cross the road and between buildings at either end of town. The
town entryways were now secure enough to slow any visitors. All of
us were poignantly aware that there were many farms scattered
across the countryside with bodies yet unaccounted for; some
visitors were expected. Otherwise there was the wildness of the
forest and the dark black waves of the lake to protect us. With the
bridge down, there was a certain finality to the entire
situation.
    We spent the next three weeks
canvassing the town to rid it of pesky undead locked in houses and
raiding residents’ homes for supplies. Everything was stored in the
elementary school gym. We decided to work on an honors system: take
only what you need. We made arrangements to rotate shifts at the
school and the barricades. Everyone was accounted for and paired up
to be protected. And everyone was acutely aware we’d had absolutely
no contact from the outside. Thus far Kiki had no luck with the
radio. The world, it seemed, had gone silent. It was something we
knew but did not talk about. We were alone.
    Around mid-October Fred noticed that
Tander Vineyard and Orchard looked ready to bust at its seams. A
popular spot for passing tourists, the Tander Orchard usually
offered fruit picking, a pumpkin patch, and hay rides this time of
year. Fred Johnson had checked the Tander house but the family was
nowhere to be found. We all decided to head out one morning and
collect the harvest. Ethel had arranged to show us all how to do
canning and had a workshop set up in the gym. We had begun to
function like an authentic village.
    Jamie and Fred drove tractors with
attached wagons to the farm that morning. Jamie had convinced a
reluctant Frenchie to bring the girls. It took some doing. They
almost never left the cabin. I didn’t blame Frenchie. If they were
my children, I would have stayed put as well.
    I rode with Jamie, Frenchie, and the
girls in the wagon. The girls were very excited. It was a chilly
fall morning. The first freeze had not yet come, but it was close.
The scene looked almost like a tail-gate party. There were about
two dozen people there, most of them armed. Empty bushel baskets
sat on the ground.
    Ian and Tom approached us when we
arrived.
    “ Swept the entire place.
Looks clear,” Ian said.
    “ We’ve got armed folks all
around the farm keeping an eye out,” Tom added.
    “ I want a pumpkin,” Kira
squealed.
    “ Me too,” Susan
called.
    “ Let’s go,” Tom said. He
picked Kira up and swung her onto his shoulders.
    Frenchie, hand in hand with Susan,
smiled at me and followed Tom.
    I grinned at her.
    April, Summer, Ethel, Jensen, and
Larry pulled up in Larry’s van.
    Ethel emerged with a large box. “Until
I figure out how to bake in a fire pit, this will have to do,” she
said. “I used Mrs. Winchester’s recipe for homemade granola. Got it
a bit burnt I’m afraid, and I think I used up the last raisins on
the planet,” she said and started handing out small bags to all of
us.
    Jamie took a bag and kissed Ethel on
the cheek. “You’re an angel,” he said.
    Ethel pinched his cheek. “Honey,
that’s you. How come you never got married? Summer, why don’t you
go with Jamie?”
    Summer looked like she wanted to sink
into the ground. “Good lord, mother, the apocalypse is here and
you’re still trying to fix me up.”
    Everyone chuckled.
    “ Oh, there’s Frenchie and
her girls. I have something special for them. Let’s go,” Ethel
said, pulling Summer behind her. Summer shook her head and rolled
her eyes as she passed me.
    “ Tom’s got people working
the vines and the pumpkins. A few people are in the back cherry
orchard. We still need people to pick apples. I thought we could
work up here,” Ian told Jamie,