Crimson Harvest

Kevin slowly climbed out of a deep cavern of dark unconsciousness into a dull and reluctant awareness of his surroundings. An uncontrollable shaking seemed to be jolting him awake. His nose detected the smell of blood, and he could taste it in his mouth. His arms ached, and his wrists, which seemed to be tied behind his back, felt as though they were burning, but he could not feel his fingers at all.

He groaned and tried to open his eyes as he wondered where he was. Everything was dark around him, and the air was freezing cold. “That explains the shaking,” he thought as he began to get his bearings.

The hard and icy cold floor was smooth against his cheek. He tried to stretch out his legs, which were also tied together at the ankles, but when he began to extend them, his feet kicked something hard and made a metallic sound. Maybe it was a metal table or a shelf of some sort. The wall beside his head was hard and flat, but because of the absolute darkness, he could not be sure in what kind of room he was being held captive.

He struggled to an upright position, not an easy thing to do given that his hands and feet were bound. He tried twisting his hands out of their bonds, but the cords would not yield his flesh.

He sat in the darkness, feeling completely helpless and wondering where and how Heather was. He thought about the fear and pain that Jeanetta and Jake were feeling, and his heart felt as though it had sunk down into his stomach as an aching pity for them and his niece threatened to bring tears to his eyes. Then he thought of how he would feel if Pete or even Lynn were in danger, in spite of his differences with them.

His anger at the Leabaum woman and fear for his sister’s family ignited an eruption of frustration, especially volatile since he was more helpless in this moment than he had ever been in his life.

“Argh!” he growled as he kicked out, his feet striking the metal object in front of him again. It clanged as it tipped backward, apparently bouncing against a wall and then tilted forward again. He heard a sliding sound, and a large box fell on top of him, striking his knees and flipping on to the floor beside him. The box must have come open, the sound of several small plastic-wrapped packages scattering everywhere.

“Well, that did a lot of good,” he murmured to himself. He then sat brooding in an angry silence that simmered inside of him. After a while, his thoughts were suddenly disturbed by the sound of the door being opened. A bright light flickered on, blinding him for a moment.