Free The Immortal Harvest by L. J. Wallace Page A

she had something that she could take to calm her nerves.
    She moved closer to the bed and could just make out the body shaped lump she assumed was Sylvan.
    She reached out her hand to see if she could feel for Sylvan’s hand. She was about to speak when she heard the unmistakable humming of a vibrating mobile phone. She heard the Doctor cough slightly as he excused himself from the room to answer the phone.
    Crystal moved in closer to the bed, being careful not to disturb the cords and tubes that were attached to Sylvan. She grabbed Sylvan’s hand lightly as she stooped over her to put her other hand tenderly on Sylvan’s forehead.
    Tears welled up in her eyes when she saw the extent of Sylvan’s injuries.
    She could feel the rage welling up inside her as she gazed upon the pulped face of Sylvan.
    She could see that her face was swollen almost beyond recognition. Both of her eyes were a dark purplish black. Her lips were swollen and she had bandages wrapped around the top of her head.
    As she stared at the beaten mess, she could hear the rhythmic sound of the machinery and the flashing lights blurred her vision. She bent down slowly and whispered in Sylvan’s ear.
    “Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll find whoever did this to you and I’m gonna cut their fucken’ balls off!!”
    She tenderly patted the top of Sylvan’s head as she reached into her handbag and pulled out a slip of paper and then stood with her one of her hands on her hips as she faced the young doctor.
    She waited until he had finished his phone call and then held out the slip of paper as an offering.
    “This is my mobile number Doc. I want you to call me as soon as Sylvan has woken up ya hear. I’m not gonna leave her to rot in this dump.”
    The Doctor pocketed the slip of paper and frowned at Crystal.
    “I can call you when Ms Peters is awake and responsive but I’m afraid it will be quite some time before she will be strong enough to leave.”
    “Don’t bullshit me Doc. I know how this works. Sylvan’s not exactly cashed up ok.
    “You let me worry about her. I’m sure your bosses would much rather have empty beds for some rich pricks than a charity case stinkin up the joint.”
    “Well Ms Meth, as eloquent as your assessment may be, I think it would be better if Ms Peters stays here with us. We’ll worry about the financial arrangements later.
    Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to attend to my rounds.”
    Crystal waited for the Doctor to leave the room before she bent down next to Sylvan’s ear.
    “You’ll be ok sweetie; I’ll come back a bit later.
    I’m gonna take ya home with me just as soon as I can and I’m gonna leave ya now so I can find your little boy.”
    Crystal kissed Sylvan lightly on the forehead and then quietly left the room.

Eight
    It was dark, darker than usual.
    At only fifty three, Joseph Smith’s African-American eyes were beginning to fail him.
    Vitamin deficiency, malnutrition, alcoholism and drug addiction had begun to kill him slowly.
    He peered into the darkness of the alleyway and spied the pile of tattered cardboard and corrugated iron and staggered towards his home.
    Everything ached these days. His only relief from his misery was found in the bottles of cheap booze and the cheap and dirty drugs that he managed to acquire.
    He fumbled with the rusty can opener that he used to pry the lid off a bloated can of baked beans that he had retrieved from an industrial bin behind the supermarket.
    After several minutes of struggle he finally succeeded in opening the can sufficiently to dip a couple of fingers into the congealed mess.
    The smell of the concoction within the can indicated that the contents had long passed the expiry date. He didn’t care. He was starving.
    Every day was a battle for survival for Joseph or Joe as his friends called him. He had lost everything ten years previously, his home, his family, and his pride and eventually he realised, his life.
    All he had left was his memories and