Epilogue – New Goals
SHAUN
Firetruck lights strobe against the early dawn, red and blue cutting through the smoke like a bad dream that won’t end.
Val, Cole, and I sit in the bed of Drew’s truck with our backs against the cab, legs stretched out, wrapped in scratchy emergency blankets.
None of us talk. We just watch people run past, shouting orders, trying to tame what’s left of Farmer Fred’s Fantastic Farm.
Sirens wail. Hoses hiss. Ash drifts through the air.
I look down at my arm. Gauze wraps the carved pumpkin face, but blood seeps through enough to trace the outline. The grin looks almost smug.
That’s going to leave a hell of a scar.
Cole sits stiff, his arm strapped in a sling, eyes wide like he’s still expecting something to lunge out of the smoke. Val, in between us, leans against the truck window, medical tape holding the cut on her cheek closed. Dried blood streaks her temple. She looks exhausted.
All things considered, we look pretty damn good for three people who just fought an angry, sentient pumpkin patch.
When the police finished asking questions, I expected them to call us crazy.
Instead, they told us we weren’t alone.
Four other farms across the state reported the same thing. Crops attacking workers. Fields gone feral. All of them used fertilizer from the same Smiling Seeds “promotional” batch.
I lean my head back against the glass and let out a heavy breath. My arm throbs. My body aches. My brain feels like it’s running on fumes.
I glance at Val. She catches me looking and gives me a tired smile. Somehow, that makes my chest loosen.
How is this our life?
Val’s head drops onto my shoulder, the weight of it settling there like it’s always known the spot. She exhales, long and shaky, and blows a loose red strand out of her face. It lifts, then falls back against her cheek, streaked with soot, sweat, and dried blood.
We keep our eyes on the black SUVs lined up beside the scorched patch.
They rolled in without sirens not even five minutes after we finished talking to the cops.
Doors opened in perfect sync. Men in black suits stepped out, movements calm and clipped, sunglasses still on despite the smoke and lingering firelight.
Behind them came a truck with the Smiling Seeds logo.
Then another.
The backs swung open and workers poured out in hazmat suits, white and faceless, moving fast like ants that already know the plan.
Floodlights snapped on. Yellow tape went up. We were immediately pulled aside and questioned by a man in a mask, then led into a white tent. We told our story again. And again. And again. With Val’s mom’s angry voice breaking through the thin tent walls.
Eventually, Cole snapped.
“Look, assholes,” he said, slamming his good fist on the table. “I’m exhausted. My arm is broken. I’m missing a lens. And my allergy meds haven’t kicked in yet. So piss off while we take a hot minute to breathe. Once we do, then you can come back groveling and begging us not to talk to the media.”
Then he stood up and walked out.
Val and I followed without being stopped. We’ve been sitting in the truck since then. Silent.
There should be more of us sitting here.
How am I going to face Drew’s parents?
I watch the men move around the tent in the distance, my arm locked around Val, my other hand still sticky with my own blood. Quarantine signs flap in the early morning breeze. The patch disappears piece by piece beneath plastic and canvas, sealed off like it never existed.
“What now?” I ask.
She sighs, then lifts her head just enough to look at me, chin still resting on my shoulder like she did when we shared her earbuds.
Was that yesterday?
Feels like a year ago.
Her eyes lock on to mine, sure in a way that feels new. “I’m not sure. But I think I know what I want to go into.”
I grin. Of course she came up with her life plan while we were battling for our lives.
There’s a sharp little spark in her eyes. “Horticulture.”
I laugh, which turns into a coughing fit as my smoke-scorched lungs protest. I bend forward, hacking, until I finally catch my breath. When I do, I pull her in close and kiss her, deep and unguarded.
“I can only imagine the hell you’d give that industry,” I say against her mouth.
She shrugs, smiling wide. “Someone has to make sure this never happens again.” She glances back at the men in suits, phones pressed to their ears as they direct workers around the farm.
“Besides, I plan to make Smiling Seeds pay for everything I ever want. They basically have to after all the hell we’ve been through.
Then I’ll use their money to absolutely fuck them over in the future. ”
God, I love this girl.
I kiss her temple. “Then maybe I’ll go into law. Make sure we can sue the shit out of companies that screw people over.”
Her brows lift, eyes bright despite everything. “I think we might be onto something.”
I take her hand and pull it across my chest, pressing her palm over my heart.
“Together,” I say.
She leans in and brushes a soft kiss to my lips. “Together.”
Her head settles back on my shoulder, comfortable now.
“You know,” she adds casually, “the University of Arkansas School of Law has an LLM in Agricultural and Food Law.”
I snort. “Of course you’d know that.”
She laughs and squeezes me tighter.
For the first time since everything burned, the future doesn’t feel empty.
I look over the top of Val’s head at Cole. “What about you?”
Cole shrugs, eyes half closed. “No idea. But I’m staying as far away from pumpkins as humanly possible.” He sneezes and shoves his glasses up his nose.
“Fair,” I say. “Strong life choice.”
We lapse into silence as the sun claws its way up behind the smoke-stained cornfield. The light turns everything hazy and unreal, like the world’s trying to pretend last night didn’t happen. We watch Val’s mom tear into the men in suits for a while.
Would my mom do the same?
Officer Childs, the cop who took our statements earlier, walks over carrying one of those cardboard drink trays. Three large coffees steam in the cool morning air.
“Figured you three could use something hot,” he says. “Little caffeine while we sort this mess out.”
Cole passes the cups down the line, murmuring a thank-you. Val takes hers and downs a long gulp like she’s trying to erase the last twelve hours from her system.
I bring mine to my lips, grateful. The heat hits my chest and almost makes me emotional.
Then Val stiffens beside me as she slowly pulls the rim away from her lips.
“What flavor is this?” she asks quietly.
Officer Childs frowns. “Pumpkin spice. Why?”
I don’t even think. I choke mid-sip and spit coffee into the dirt, barely missing the officer’s boots.
Val wrinkles her nose like she just swallowed a bug.
“Nope,” Cole says instantly. He flips the lid off his cup with his thumb and dumps the whole thing over the side of the truck.
Val and I follow suit without hesitation, brown liquid splashing into the gravel like a group decision made on instinct alone.
Officer Childs just stares at us.
Too soon, man.
Way too soon.
Val presses closer to my side, shaking her head, muffling a groan. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and glance at the ruined coffee soaking into the ground.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “We’re gonna need a different flavor.”