The Harvest Cycle by David Dunwoody Page A

snapped. “It’s gone right through your heart, man! You don’t have long. I’m sorry.”
        It was a solid, heavy spear, carved from good wood and made smooth as paper. It had gone deep into Ira, and Cutter knew the bastards were close. Cannibals, they had to be, relying on shit like this. Hunters.
        Ira’s voice faltered. He grabbed at Cutter’s leg, whimpering. “I’m sorry...I couldn’t help...”
        “Don’t worry about us,” Cutter whispered. “Go to sleep. Just go to sleep.”
        Ira closed his eyes and lay still.
        “We have you surrounded!” Came the call.
        “What do you want?” West shouted back.
         “Flesh.”
        “I knew it!” Cutter yelled, and started firing at the rock piles he could see.
        “Don’t waste ammo!” West cried.
        “Jesus,” Hitch was whispering. He looked into the van and saw Amanda clutching Lucy. “What’s happening?” Amanda cried.
        Laughter echoed across the plain.
        “Let’s just drive out of here!” Rasped West.
        Cutter shook his head. “They’ve got more traps out there. We’re done in, fellas.”
        “Is this what I can count on?” Hitch snapped.
        Cutter glared at him. “Look, I’m ready to use every last bullet on these bastards. If you want a mercy bullet for yourself or those girls, tell me now.”
        “Why can’t we just get back in the van-”
        “They’ve got us boxed in, boss. We can try shooting our way out, but we’ll hit the traps - or we can cooperate to a point and see just how many of these fuckers there are.”
        They weren’t given a choice.
        The cannibals swarmed in, heaving spears and knives and rocks and screaming curses, from all directions; out of the night they suddenly appeared, like the stars, not quite a trillion but enough to envelope the van and drive the men into it and now they were sitting in a rocking and thrashing nightmare.
        “What do we do?” West cried. “Cutter!”
        “I’ll run ‘em down,” Cutter growled, starting the engine. The headlamps illuminated a sea of filthy screaming faces.
        A spear crashed through the windshield, slicing open Cutter’s cheek, rocketing into the back and planting itself in a shelf wall - but not before the shaft smacked against Amanda’s head and sent her reeling to the floor.
        
    ***
        
         Back so soon.
        All was dark, and cold; Amanda hugged her arms to her breasts and tried to orient herself, but there was no point of reference. Nothing.
         Do you know Carroll? Do you know of the Jabberwock?
        “No.”
         A shame, it’s my favorite glamour, what the hell we’ll do it anyway.
        And out of the nothing manifested something like living stone, a cold gray scaly thing that lowered its barbed and fanged head to her and stared hard with churning, white, pupil-less eyes. A lizard...dinosaur...dragon?
         Jabberwock.
         Nightmare.
         I won’t hurt you, lass, you’ve got too much precious dream-meat with such potential. No, we’re only here to talk. It’s one of few things I can do outside of my piping, my piping and dancing with the rest of this accursed tier, my Legion.
        “What are you?”
         The Magnum Innominandum. It that shall not be named, or something, that was what earlier men called me. I prefer Nightmare.
         Why are you back? Not your choice? What are men and women doing to each other down there, I wonder. Such chaos. All pointless.
         But it breeds such wonderful dreams. Oh, the dreams we’ve had! The things I’ve seen thanks to your imaginations, your souls, it’s magic you know? Keeps me sane.
        “Don’t you have enough? Can’t you stop?”
         No, no, no, you can never have too much of a good thing. I don’t do reruns anyway. That’s another path to insanity. I don’t want to end up