Harvest Moon (Excerpt)

Chapter One

Somewhere in the forest, a chainsaw roared to life. Its teeth cut into the wood of some distant tree, and the sound of it gnawing through the bark brought Dawn out of her light sleep.

The grumble and roar of the chainsaw was joined by a chorus of birds as they fled the sound of the monstrous machinery. The noise was all around her, and she still struggled to accept it as simply the background music of her life.

She'd been living in Goosemont for six months and figured she'd be used to the sounds of rural living by now, but she was still adjusting to her new life in Appalachia. She was always forgetting little things, like not locking her garbage meant that raccoons would be into it in the night, or how just because yesterday had been warm and sunny for an early November day didn't mean today would be the same.

Foolishly, she thought the warmth would last, and she'd left the window of her small bedroom open a crack for the fresh air. Now, the quilt she'd bought at September's county fair wasn't enough to keep her from shivering. The cold was biting and made her flesh pimple, even as she pulled the blanket up under her chin.

Though it meant leaving the warmth of her quilt, she forced herself to sit up and turn to close the window over her bed. She had only worn a light, threadbare t-shirt to bed, and the moment she sat up, she hissed from the cold, but she knew it was a necessary evil. She turned and leaned toward the window, but just as her fingers found the glass, another sound broke through the roar of the chainsaw and forced her to snap her hand back.

Somewhere in town, a police siren began to wail. The sound of it was enough to make Dawn retreat into the safety of her blankets and she hid in the warmth.

"No," she mumbled to herself. "There's nothing to worry about. They're probably just passing through town."

Still, she didn't push herself back out of the bed until the noise of the sirens died down. It hadn't faded away, but abruptly stopped as if the officer had turned off the sirens rather than driven far enough away that the sound moved out of earshot.

Goosemont only had a couple of cops, but Dawn had done well to avoid them since she'd arrived last spring. They frequented Jim's old bar where she worked as a waitress, but she was careful to skip the small talk with them and just bring them their greasy food and their cheap beers. There was no need for more than that. She never knew whose pocket they might be in.

"They aren't here for you," she whispered to herself as she pushed the window shut and finally got out of bed. Even with the window closed, her bedroom was cold, and she found a pair of old flannel pajama pants laying on the floor and pulled them on.

The floor of the old cabin she was renting creaked and groaned under her soft footsteps. Her bedroom door led into her living room, and that was open to the kitchen. It was small and old, but it was hers, and it was nicer than most places she'd stayed the last couple of years.

Still, the sirens made her distinctly aware of the fact that she'd stayed put for a little over half a year. Goosemont was nice, but West Virginia wasn't that far from New York City, and even with her precautions, she was never really going to be safe. Besides, the winter in the mountains would be harsh. It was probably time to move on, but something was stalling her feet.

Most of the town had probably been up for hours, and as Dawn looked at the clock on the old, rusty stove in her small kitchen, she realized she'd better start getting ready for work. It was already eleven, and that meant she had just under an hour to get to the bar. She had time, but the hot water took a while to reach the shower, and she liked being a bit early to help Jim with the prep work before the bar opened.