Read Dead Harvest for Free Online

because you're thinking about stabbing somebody doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it.
      Kate flexed first one limb, and then another. When she was sure all four still worked, she rose, unsteady, from the chair. She limped the length of the floor to the bathroom. If I had to guess, I'd say the cops were a little less than gentle when they finally took her down.
      "Three minutes," I told her as she reached the door. "Not a second more."
      She nodded, and shut the door behind her. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Then I set the knife on the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch. The clock on the cable box read one-fifteen. I kept an eye on the bathroom door and wondered for about the hundredth time just what the hell I'd been thinking taking the girl.
      Three minutes passed, and no Kate. I figured I'd give her a break – she'd been in that chair the better part of a day, and before that, she'd been cuffed to a stretcher. Besides, she was still decked out in a hospital gown; it's not like she was wearing a watch.
      When four minutes had gone by, I got a little irritated. Then five ticked past, and I was downright pissed. By the time six minutes rolled around, I was banging on the bathroom door.
      "C'mon, Kate, you've had your fun. Time to get back in the chair."
      No response. I tried the knob. Locked. "I'm not fucking around here, Kate! Open this door or I swear I'll break it down!" Still nothing. I put an ear to the door. I heard the sound of running water, and beneath it, something else. A low, wet gurgle. Like someone choking. Like someone dying.
      Shit.
      I slammed against the door, and rebounded hard, sprawling across the living room floor. Pain radiated outward from my shoulder in nauseating waves. I regrouped and tried again. I managed to stay up this time, but it still hurt like hell, and the door didn't give an inch. She must have barricaded it somehow. Didn't want me ruining her big exit.
      Inside the bathroom, Kate's ragged breathing ceased. I was out of options. The problem was, this body of mine was exhausted, and I didn't know if it had the juice for me to make the jump. Still, I had to try.
      I clenched shut my eyes and focused on her,
    choking on the other side of the door. Blood trickled from my nose at the sudden strain, and my mouth filled with the taste of pennies. The world went dark as I pulled away. Friedlander crumpled, his head slamming into the floorboards with a sickening thwack. Then, for a moment, there was nothing.
      When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the bathroom ceiling. I couldn't breathe. Somewhere inside my head, Kate was shrieking. It's like that with the living – damn near impossible to concentrate with them always carrying on.
      I tried to roll over, but Kate's limbs were like lead. Pills, I'd guess. I was such a fucking idiot. After the way Friedlander checked out, I should have thought to check the medicine cabinet. Now I hoped I wasn't too late.
      The nausea hit me like a freight train. Kate's entire body clenched. I struggled with her sluggish limbs, and managed to tip us over. Cheek met tile, and my vision swam. Beside me lay a smattering of empty bottles. Prescription, the lot of them. I tried in vain to read the labels, but my eyes wouldn't cooperate. Whatever she'd taken, she hadn't been fucking around.
      Acid scorched my throat as Kate's body tried to purge itself of me. I stayed put. A couple dozen pills weren't so lucky. Her stomach heaved again. Pills and sick spilled across the tile.
      Control came by degrees as her body relented to my demands. Still, it was blunted by the drugs. I didn't have much time.
      On quivering limbs, I forced myself to my hands and knees. Still the sickness came. I glanced toward the bathroom door. I could barely keep my head up. She'd barricaded it, all right. A set of wooden shelves, wedged between the door and tub. I clawed at them with clumsy hands. The shelves