Read Online The Harvest Cycle by David Dunwoody - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Dunwoody
Ads: Link
the darkness.
He tried to run. His legs kicked in place, muscles burning, his arms churning as water swept into his lungs. But he didn’t drown; no, he just kept struggling and suffering and trying to force a scream from his flooded throat.
A coldness came over him, and his limbs froze. It was the same icy cold from the corpse-house. It was Nightmare.
The current stirred at his back as the entity spoke.
I will savor you most of all. Your dream-meat will melt on my tongue, seep into my blood...I’ve not been able to reach any of the others the way I’ve reached you. You’re a special one .
Rafe asked a question in his mind, knowing the thing could hear him. “Are you one of them?”
Oh, no. You really don’t understand, do you?
Shadows passed over Rafe’s face. He glanced up and saw, floating beneath the ocean’s surface, great pink clusters - the creatures, clinging to one another, tentacle-like things threading through their arms and legs and claws and tethering them to each other. Even from his distance he could see their closed eyes, their slack jaws with rows of razor-sharp teeth.
We made them, Rafe .
If only we could descend upon you ourselves and harvest your dream-meat...we would have done it ages ago. But we’re not of flesh, you see, for flesh cannot endure at the edge of space...we had to seed the ocean floor with harvesters and wait for them to grow ripe. We’ve waited countless aeons, waited to devour your dreams .
“Are you...are you God?”
The thing laughed. It was the most awful noise Rafe had ever heard, and it rang through every bone in his body. He prayed for the water to drown him, but he knew it was in vain.
You might call us gods. How I adore the human imagination! Your dreams!
“What do gods need with dreams?”
Our sleep is a sleep of millennia, a sleep of madness. We have nothing to soothe our minds, you see - it’s all darkness and silence. And gods deserve no such thing, not when puny animals like you have the power to dream!
Rafe looked again at the clusters floating overhead. So the creatures were just vessels for the stealing of dreams? But how...
Dream-meat
Rafe began to choke. The pressure in his lungs and behind his eyes built until his vision went dark. And the hideous laughter of the nightmare-god filled his senses.
***
Abe shook Rafe awake. “You’re screaming!”
Rafe pushed the other man away and scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath. “We have to go NOW.”
Abe shook his head. “There’s...something happened.”
Rafe looked over Abe’s shoulder. He saw Erika by the barricaded door, Peter slouched behind the bar. Gayle was kneeling with her back to the others, whispering softly to Emma.
She turned and stood, the baby in her arms, and even in the dim pre-dawn light Rafe could see her puffy blue skin, her limp little arms and the innocent smile erased from her face.
“Jesus.”
He stared at Gayle in horror. How could do it, to her own daughter?
Then he noticed that the others weren’t looking at Gayle. They were looking at Peter.
He sipped a glass of wine and cleared his throat. “Is it time to go, Rafe?”
The world had finished coming apart in the time Rafe had slept. Peter looked shamelessly at the smothered infant, and even though Erika and Abe were staring him down, they didn’t look outraged, or even mortified. They had accepted what he’d done. He’d taken care of a liability.
Rafe grabbed Abe’s shoulder. “What are you thinking? Are you just going to let this go? Jesus, Abe!”
“Keep your damn voice down,” Abe shot back. “The things are still resting. Now’s the time.”
Erika and Peter began dissembling the barricade.
Rafe fell to his knees
He tried to run. His legs kicked in place, muscles burning, his arms churning as water swept into his lungs. But he didn’t drown; no, he just kept struggling and suffering and trying to force a scream from his flooded throat.
A coldness came over him, and his limbs froze. It was the same icy cold from the corpse-house. It was Nightmare.
The current stirred at his back as the entity spoke.
I will savor you most of all. Your dream-meat will melt on my tongue, seep into my blood...I’ve not been able to reach any of the others the way I’ve reached you. You’re a special one .
Rafe asked a question in his mind, knowing the thing could hear him. “Are you one of them?”
Oh, no. You really don’t understand, do you?
Shadows passed over Rafe’s face. He glanced up and saw, floating beneath the ocean’s surface, great pink clusters - the creatures, clinging to one another, tentacle-like things threading through their arms and legs and claws and tethering them to each other. Even from his distance he could see their closed eyes, their slack jaws with rows of razor-sharp teeth.
We made them, Rafe .
If only we could descend upon you ourselves and harvest your dream-meat...we would have done it ages ago. But we’re not of flesh, you see, for flesh cannot endure at the edge of space...we had to seed the ocean floor with harvesters and wait for them to grow ripe. We’ve waited countless aeons, waited to devour your dreams .
“Are you...are you God?”
The thing laughed. It was the most awful noise Rafe had ever heard, and it rang through every bone in his body. He prayed for the water to drown him, but he knew it was in vain.
You might call us gods. How I adore the human imagination! Your dreams!
“What do gods need with dreams?”
Our sleep is a sleep of millennia, a sleep of madness. We have nothing to soothe our minds, you see - it’s all darkness and silence. And gods deserve no such thing, not when puny animals like you have the power to dream!
Rafe looked again at the clusters floating overhead. So the creatures were just vessels for the stealing of dreams? But how...
Dream-meat
Rafe began to choke. The pressure in his lungs and behind his eyes built until his vision went dark. And the hideous laughter of the nightmare-god filled his senses.
***
Abe shook Rafe awake. “You’re screaming!”
Rafe pushed the other man away and scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath. “We have to go NOW.”
Abe shook his head. “There’s...something happened.”
Rafe looked over Abe’s shoulder. He saw Erika by the barricaded door, Peter slouched behind the bar. Gayle was kneeling with her back to the others, whispering softly to Emma.
She turned and stood, the baby in her arms, and even in the dim pre-dawn light Rafe could see her puffy blue skin, her limp little arms and the innocent smile erased from her face.
“Jesus.”
He stared at Gayle in horror. How could do it, to her own daughter?
Then he noticed that the others weren’t looking at Gayle. They were looking at Peter.
He sipped a glass of wine and cleared his throat. “Is it time to go, Rafe?”
The world had finished coming apart in the time Rafe had slept. Peter looked shamelessly at the smothered infant, and even though Erika and Abe were staring him down, they didn’t look outraged, or even mortified. They had accepted what he’d done. He’d taken care of a liability.
Rafe grabbed Abe’s shoulder. “What are you thinking? Are you just going to let this go? Jesus, Abe!”
“Keep your damn voice down,” Abe shot back. “The things are still resting. Now’s the time.”
Erika and Peter began dissembling the barricade.
Rafe fell to his knees
Similar Books
