The Harvest

 Irene yawned and stretched in her chair. Crunching numbers and balancing the books was mentally exhausting. Her fingers were sore from typing.

           “Ugh, my back is stiff.” Snap. Crack. Pop. The tension in her shoulders gave her a headache, so she decided to walk outside.

           Irene loved her house in the country. Isolated and living alone, she tended to the farm and livestock. Bright sun filtered through colored leaves. The chill in the air caused her to tighter her sweater around herself.

           “I need to go into town tomorrow Gizmo.” The Labrador plodded behind her. Gray flecks showing in the black hair of his face.

           The bimonthly supply run provided Irene with groceries and livestock feed, but she dreaded the nosy, gossipy neighbors.

           At dawn, Irene fired up the old Ford diesel and started the hour-long drive into town.

           Sheriff Willis waved at the familiar, red truck. Not many people had working vehicles anymore, but everyone in town pitched in to make sure Doc Irene had a vehicle, as she did so much for them. Idyllic and quiet, Kenworth’s population grew steadily to one hundred strong and healthy souls. No other town could boast such a feat after the devastation of World War III.

           Irene pulled around to the back of Bill and June’s General store to avoid spooking the horses hitched in the front.

           “Good morning Doc!” the grandmother greeted Irene from behind the antique cash register. Large glass windows overlooking the town square let light into the shop, and a lantern hung from the ceiling to illuminate the shadier areas at the back of the former convenience store.

           “Bill’s in the back gathering up your livestock feed and provisions.”

           “Thank you, Auntie June. I need extra bag of apples and another of beans if you got any to spare. The livestock are really eating. It’s looking to be a good harvest this year.”

           “Oh, thank goodness. Little Emily had a little girl this week, and they’ll be needing some extra rations this winter. I don’t know what we’d do without you around to raise meat for the town.”

           “I’m happy to be able to play a part and help out.” Bill could be heard loading the truck with supplies.

           “Since, I’m here, I better check in on Emily and the new baby. Then I’ll go visit with the Sheriff and see if anyone else needs to see me before I head back.”

           “Can you take this when you go?” June handed her a box with some jars of canned green beans and a loaf of freshly baked bread. The warm, comforting smell wafted throughout the store.

           “Good thing Bill got that old Dutch windmill working again. I don’t know what I’d do without flour and bread.” Irene chuckled.

           Horses stood tied to abandoned gas station pumps. A few were hooked up to buggies. Townsfolk preferred parking their horses there because the roof helped protect them from the sun and rain.

           Irene made her way across the town square to Emily’s house by the river.

           A central figure in the town square, the old windmill opposed the western winds blowing over the Spring Creek River. The red façade contrasted with the blue sky. Some days Irene could not believe that she had not been transported two hundred years into the past before electricity had been discovered. She missed the internet and cell phones.

           Void of any life, the silence of the lovingly maintained town square reached out to grasp at Irene’s very soul, causing goosebumps to trickle up her spine. She remembered Christmas music playing on speakers hung throughout the town square many years ago, when the population was around 5,000. Famine, disease, and war had decimated the population, but they had survived. Together the town had found a way to survive the brutal winters without outside supplies.

           Irene approached the quaint log cabin at the bottom of the hill. The two youngest boys stood outside chopping wood, and four girls tended the massive garden. Mary, the eldest, played with her two youngest sisters while hanging laundry.

           “Morning Mary. Looks like you’ve got a skeleton crew today.”

           “Mornin’ Doc. Most of them are out foraging today, and the Sheriff hired all the boys we could spare to bring in the wheat crop. I suppose you’re here to see Ma though. She’s inside making dinner.”

           “She isn’t pushing herself, is she?”

           “Doc, Ma just pushed out her twenty-first child. It would take more than that to make her take a break.”

           Irene smiled. “I suppose she always has been a good producer.”

           “Exciting news though Doc. Elsie had puppies! Could you have a look at them while you’re here? They’re in Ma’s bedroom.”

           Irene’s eyebrows raised.

           “Really? Puppies?! I haven’t seen puppies in years!”

           “I thought you’d be excited, seeing as you were originally a vet and all.”

           Irene made her way into the house. An older woman stood hunched over the fireplace stirring a pot. A newborn baby lay in a basket on the table.

           “Hey Doc. Me and the baby are doing fine. I know that’s why you’re here.” Irene set the box of provisions and bread on the table next to the baby.

           “I hear you have puppies too.”         

           “So, you’ve heard the good news! It’s amazing, isn’t it? Go on. They’re in the bedroom.”

           On the floor under the window sat a beautifully crafted whelping box containing eight sleeping black bundles. The Labrador raised her head to look at Irene before going back to sleep. Irene knelt next to the box and barely dared to breathe on the precious bundles.

           “Is the Doc in?” Irene heard Sheriff Willis’ voice come from the kitchen.

           “Yep, she’s in there looking at the little miracles.”

           “Everything all right Sheriff?” Irene asked.

           “Oh, yes ma’am.” He removed his tattered hat.

           “No one’s come to me with any complaints for you to tend to, but I was hoping to talk with you and visit about this year’s harvest.”

           “Certainly. Do you want me to get the trailer for your horse, or were you going to ride out?”

           “Trailer may be a good idea. I don’t want to be out too late.”

           The ride back to the farm was quiet. Sheriff Willis wasn’t much of a talker. Thoughts of organizing the harvest ran through his mind. It took two weeks to butcher and process the meat for winter storage. Organizing the townsfolk into functioning teams was no easy feat, and while the entire process was necessary, Sheriff Willis dreaded the event. It made him uneasy. He watched Irene driving out of the corner of his eye, and tried to study her movements while appearing bored and disinterested.

           Once at the farm, the pair headed out to the long, abandoned metal poultry barn.

           “So, trying to get a better estimate of the harvest, so you can calculate the rations better, eh?”

           “Yep. It’s looking to be a good year, and I want to make sure we’ve got enough room to brine and store the meat.”

           In the ante-room, Irene and the Sheriff donned boot, coveralls, and ear protection, and Irene fired up the generators for light.

           Inside, the barn appeared empty, but Irene flicked the lights on, revealing the scene underneath the metal grates. Bile rose in the Sheriff’s throat.

           Hundreds of naked people stood, blinking in the light. Sheriff Willis could barely make out the screams through his ear muffs. He avoided eye contact and followed Irene to the other end of the barn. Using a clip board and pen, he counted the number of men, women, children, and elderly.

           Willis remembered the war. He remembered when the government’s use of bio weapons caused massive die offs of livestock and wildlife. He remembered the famine and starving friends, neighbors, and family. He remembered when Dr. Irene first approached the survivors with an insane idea to capture travelers and strangers and raised them like livestock in a barn. The first few years the Doc did all the killing and processing. It never phased her. The screams and faces never seemed to affect her. Irene was the only person with the stomach for the job.

           Willis couldn’t take it anymore.

           “Ok, Doc. I got what I needed. I’ll be off.” He backed his way out of the barn, refusing to turn his back on her.

           “Have a safe trip back Sheriff.” Irene waved and smiled before dumping a 50 lb. bag of apples into the crowd of people below.