The Harvest (13 page)

Looking down at Jules, her face grimaced and
her hands and knees shredded, Shane was hit by a surge of doubt.
Should they even be here? Maybe he should gather his people and get
the hell out before someone got hurt even worse.

“Can you walk?”

Jules looked up at him, eyes damp. “Yeah, I
think so.”

Shane and Tracy helped her to her feet and
guided her toward the barracks. A few minutes later, the Russians
came around and caught up with them.

“Perhaps the Americans have gotten too fat
and lazy since the Cold War ended, eh?” one of the Russian boys
taunted.

“I’ll show you fat and lazy, you piece of… ”
Steve charged their ranks, tackling him.

“Steve,” Kelly yelled. When Steve ignored
her, she turned and looked at him. “Shane? Do something.”

“Steve!” Shane yelled reluctantly. “Let
him
go.”

The big linebacker rose to his feet, hovering
over the crumpled boy. Shane feared the other Russians would attack
him, but instead, they just laughed. Steve feinted a lunge at
another one, and they recoiled, laughing even harder.

The Koreans ran by in perfect formation,
followed by the Chinese in similar fashion.

One of the Russians, a girl who was as tall
as Jules, snapped for her group to reorganize. She wasn’t ugly, but
she had chiseled facial features that didn’t look conducive to
smiling. Following her order promptly, they took off after the
Asians.

“You’d better keep running,” Steve yelled as
if they fled him.

One limping, two exhausted, and the rest
angry and discouraged, Shane led his friends back to the barracks
and set Jules on a metal bench outside the door.

“What’s going on here?” Captain Jones
snarled, coming out of the darkness. “You’re supposed to be
running.”

“Yeah,” Shane objected incredulously, “but…
”

“Excuse me?” Jones glared at him like he’d
committed a heinous crime.

Shane stared back baffled and a little
concerned. Then he remembered.

“Sir, yes sir,” he corrected. “The Russians
have attacked my people twice. How can we train with them always
trying to ambush us?”

“That’s the whiniest, wimpiest crap I’ve ever
heard,” Jones yelled, looking at each of them. “You think the
Anunnaki are going to drop their weapons, kneel down, and expose
their necks for you? If the Russians are giving you a problem, you
kick their asses. Do I make myself clear?”

“Sir, yes sir,” they shouted, Steve and Tracy
more enthusiastic than the rest.

“Now run!” He shooed them with his hands.
“We’ll patch her up.”

“Yes sir,” Shane replied, taking off with his
squad on his heels.

He knew Tracy and Steve had vengeance on
their minds, and he’d be glad to join them. The barrack was going
to turn into a very unpleasant place where no one got any sleep.
Why couldn’t the Russians see they were ultimately all on the same
side? The Anunnaki were the enemy. If they messed with his people
again, he was going to do his part to beat some sense into
them.

They ran around the track, Laura keeping up
better this lap. He could tell by the scowl on her face that anger
powered her along now.

“We have to start acting like a single unit,”
Tracy instructed. “Try to run in formation like the others.”

No one objected. It seemed most of the
competitors had some military training, perhaps in programs similar
to the JROTC Tracy commanded. Shane was certain his and Steve’s
football experience would pay off, but he knew they also needed
Tracy to help them act more disciplined. However, she had a
tendency to rub people the wrong way, and he worried his team might
fall apart if he gave her too much control.

“We are only as strong as our weakest link,”
Tracy continued, glancing at Laura. “We have to work together to
make ourselves stronger.”

They ran in two lines, Shane at the front of
one and Laura at the other. She picked up the pace, like she wanted
to prove Tracy wasn’t talking about her. They did two more
laps—Shane reckoned the total was about four miles—and then
encountered Captain Jones in front of an open hangar a few
buildings past the barracks. He ushered them inside, instructing
them to take a seat.

They were the last to enter the building. The
other six squads were seated in brown, metal folding chairs, facing
an elevated platform with a dry-erase board and a large LCD monitor
on it.

“Thank you,” Laura exclaimed, finding a
bottle of water under her seat. Glancing at the ceiling as if it
were a gift from above, she guzzled the entire bottle. Her face was
so flush from running, Shane worried she might throw up or pass
out.

“You did good,” Kelly whispered to her.

Kelly was right. Although they didn’t keep up
with the others, Shane could see his friends had all the spirit
required for success. He’d wager they’d be able to hold their own
after a few weeks of exercise. But he still worried they’d never be
able to compete with some of the teams. It was undeniable—the
Americans were the underdogs here, at least in the running
department.

Jules strolled in and sat down at the end of
the row of seats, next to Maurice. She crossed her arms and glared
at the Russians with such vehemence that he expected she might burn
brands onto the backs of their heads. Her knees were healed, no
sign of the injuries she’d sustained. She must’ve paid a visit to
the alien-doctor-miracle-worker who’d mended Shane yesterday.

“Great,” he whispered. “They can break us all
they want, then just patch us up and send us at it again.”

Jones strolled around the perimeter of the
room and climbed the aluminum stairs onto the stage. All the kids
were silent—even the Russians weren’t joking around for once. The
anticipation of what Jones was about to relay charged the room,
though Shane didn’t really expect they would get any more
enlightened than they’d already become. The world as they knew it
was coming to an end, and the kids in this hangar had to save it.
The more he thought about what Lily told them yesterday, the hokier
the whole thing sounded. Was there any chance a bunch of teenagers
could fend off an alien invasion?

Regardless, his people were being fed,
sheltered, and trained. And the little kids they worked so hard to
protect were safe here. He’d keep his guard up, but for now, he
wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize their relatively good
fortune.

“This is the first day of your training,”
Jones growled. It sounded like he was clearing his throat with each
word, and Shane wondered if the alien was in constant pain from the
way he spoke. “Points are being tallied, and at the end of each
week, we will post the scores in your barracks.”

After the morning run, Shane knew his team
was at the bottom. His competitive nature made him sick from the
thought.

“There has already been some hazing between
teams,” Jones continued, “and we want you all to know it is
unacceptable. However, we don’t intend to interfere unless someone
is severely injured. So do not come whining to us about your
trivial conflicts.”

“What?” Kelly whispered angrily.

The tallest blond Russian boy looked over his
shoulder and smiled at the Americans, and Shane hoped Kelly was
starting to tilt in favor of retaliation.

“When we go into combat simulations, you may
end up causing each other injury as well,” Jones said. “But it is
important to remember we are all on the same side. We can fix your
scrapes and bumps, but we cannot bring back the dead. You must
control your anger and remember the goal is to all become the best
soldiers possible, pushing each other to achieve greatness. When
the Anunnaki attack, these childish differences will have to be put
aside.”

Jones swept the room with a stern look.

“If you’re tempted to fight, remember that
person sitting next to you, who is your enemy during this training,
will be your closest ally during the war. Do I make myself
clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!” The synchronized response was
so loud that it felt like the building shook.

“Now we will go around the room and allow a
representative from each squad to introduce their team and say a
little bit about what they can bring to our training, starting with
the front row.” Jones pointed at the Russians.

The tall girl with blond hair pulled into a
tight bun who’d yelled at her teammates on the tarmac stood and
spoke in her native tongue. Shane’s earbud translated.

“I’m Anfisa Babikov. My squad is from Russia.
We were part of the Junior Spetsnaz training program before the
adults were killed. We are experienced with the use of multiple
types of weapons, tactics, and hand-to-hand combat.” She stood at
attention and shouted, “Any mission, anytime,
anyplace—Spetsnaz!”

“Spetsnaz!” the rest of the Russians shouted
in unison.

Shane immediately started worrying about what
he would say to try and sound half as impressive. Anfisa sat down,
and the short, Korean girl who’d eyed him yesterday on the tarmac
stood up next.

“We are from the National Taekwondo Team in
Korea,” was all she said.

The girl sat down. And one of the kids Shane
suspected were the Chinese stood. “We are from The People’s
Republic of China.”

He sat down without saying anything else. His
brevity spoke volumes. These were some badass kids who didn’t need
to brag about their training. He just hoped they had better manners
than the Russians did.

While the two groups were a lot quieter,
Shane suspected they might be the toughest to beat. He was envious
of them—of the extensive martial arts training he suspected they
had. It was something he’d always wanted to do, but his dad never
put him in classes when he was younger, and football took over as
he grew up.

“We are from Israel,” the next kid said. He
had olive skin and brown hair, and his shoulders filled out his
black T-shirt like he was no stranger to the gym. “We are from
Rabin Pre-Military Academy’s Advanced Student Early Enrollment
Program.”

It seemed everyone had an impressive résumé,
and he grew more concerned after each team’s representative
spoke.

“Let me handle this,” Tracy whispered to him.
“I’ll make us sound good.”

She grinned, and he nodded, grateful she’d
relieved him of the task. He didn’t know what he’d say. B-team
quarterback at Leeville High didn’t sound awe-inspiring after
listening to everyone else.

The other three groups were from Brazil,
Finland, and Australia. Though they said nothing more than where
they came from, he expected there must be something exceptional
about them, or they wouldn’t be here.

“My name is Tracy Cyrus.” She stood tall, and
Shane held his breath. “I am the commander of the United States
Army Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps at Leeville High School.
We were the team who shut down the weapon that killed the adults.
Hooah!”

Tracy directed this last shout at the
Russians. They were twisted around and looking at her as she spoke.
She glared at them and settled into her seat. Several of the other
kids in the room cast awed glances at the Americans before facing
forward again.

“Dang, girl,” Shane whispered. “You did make
us sound good.”

“Now that the introductions are done,” Jones
said, speaking from the metal stage, “you guys can go get
breakfast. Return here in thirty minutes, and we will begin weapons
and armament training.”

They stood and filed out of the hangar, Shane
keeping a loose, albeit tired, eye on the Russians. He wasn’t going
to let his team fall victim to any more of their cheap shots.

Light blue painted the sky. The sun was not
yet visible above the trees, but the birds sang cheerfully of its
approach. A pair of ravens flew overhead, and he noticed Laura
glance nervously at the sky. She’d probably never be comfortable
around the shadowy birds again after how they’d attacked her.

“Feels like we’ve already had a full day, and
it ain’t even morning,” Maurice grumbled, stifling a yawn.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m hungry as
hell,” Steve said, rubbing his belly. “A biscuit or two would put a
grin above my chin, that’s for sure.”

The smell of bacon wafted from the cafeteria,
making Shane realize he was starving too. He and Kelly walked at
the front of his squad, keeping distance between them and the
Russians.

“What’s up, mates?” a cheerful, male voice
called from behind.

They stopped and looked back. Smiling
Australians intermingled with them, offering well-mannered
introductions.

“Nice to have some other English-speakers
here,” a broad-shouldered redheaded kid said. “Liam’s the name,
rugby’s my game.” He extended his hand to Tracy, his face
expressing trepidation that his friendliness might be
unwelcome.