The Harvest (18 page)

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Authors: N.W. Harris

Tags: #scifi, #action adventure, #end of the world, #teen science fiction, #survival stories, #young adult dystopian, #young adult post apocalyptic

BOOK: The Harvest
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His pursuers would never know what hit them.
She grinned as he passed, and then he heard her targets cursing
angrily.

Not certain he was safe but energized by the
nearness of victory, Shane ran even faster. The slope diminished
near the base, and there was less risk of wiping out. He could see
the undergrowth at the edge of the forest, could see the gravel
roof of the cafeteria building—and then someone smashed into his
back.

He tumbled forward, hammering a root with his
knee. The inertia sent him and his assailant head over heels into
the blackberry bushes. Thorns sliced his bare arms and legs, then
his head hit something hard. Hot pain flashed through his skull. He
blinked his eyes, struggling to maintain consciousness. The tall,
blond Russian boy scrambled through the briars and jumped on
Shane’s chest. He punched Shane in the face with his left and then
right fist, shouting.

“Give me the damn flag!”

Reaching up and wrapping his arms around the
boy’s torso, Shane pulled him down. Then he rolled to the right,
rose up, and dropped an elbow as hard as he could into his nose.
The boy yelped in pain. Shane broke free of his grasp and launched
out of the bushes, leaping as high as he could in the air to get
through them.

The drop on the other side was further than
he expected, and when he landed, he tumbled forward, his head
smashing on the concrete foundation of the cafeteria. Shane groaned
and gritted his teeth. His mouth filled with blood.

Jones was above him, looking down. His lips
moved, but Shane couldn’t hear what he was saying. Tracy’s sweaty
face appeared. Then Steve, Maurice, Jules, and Laura showed up.
They leaned over him, huffing for air and splattered with neon
paint, and smiled wildly.

Shane couldn’t stop the world spinning. He
blinked, his vision going in and out of focus. Then Kelly appeared.
Her forehead had a red welt growing on it, and orange splattered
her hair. She was beautiful, even covered in sweat, paint, and
dirt. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with joy, something he hadn’t seen
much since her family died.

Her voice cut through the ringing in his
ears, bringing him out of his daze.

“We did it,” she shouted. “You did it,
Shane!”

They helped him to his feet, and she embraced
him. His head hurt, and his legs didn’t want to stay under him, but
his team had won. It was a sweeter victory than he’d ever earned on
the gridiron. He glanced around at the disappointed faces of the
foreigners, amazed his team had beaten them all. Kelly grabbed his
head and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips against his. His
busted mouth stung when she kissed him, but he didn’t pull
away.

“Do you have the flag?” Jones asked sternly,
interrupting their revelry.

The rest of the teens came out of the forest
and gathered around, some looking angry and others defeated. Only
the Australians, all of whom had paint splotches, likely victims of
the Russians’ seek-and-destroy strategy, seemed relatively happy
about the Americans’ victory.

“Do you have the flag?” Jones repeated.

Shane looked down. His black shirt had a
viscous wetness near the waistline, different from the sweat
saturating the rest of it. Fear that he’d lost the flag in the
scuffle with the Russian overcame him. When he lifted his shirt,
pain tore across his abdomen.

“Oh, Shane,” Kelly gasped.

Cringing, he lifted his shirt higher, and the
red part of the flag flipped out. The wooden dowel attached to it
was broken, the halves piercing deep into the flesh of his
belly.

Seeing the puncture wound made the pain
tenfold worse. Shane’s head seemed to swell, his vision blurring
and the ringing returning to his ears.

“You okay, Shane?” Steve asked, his big hand
clamping around Shane’s arm.

“I’m… ” He collapsed forward, Kelly catching
him.

“Bring him to medical,” Shane heard Dr. Blain
say.

Steve and Maurice slipped under Shane’s arms
and helped him limp along behind the doctor. She’d just treated him
yesterday, and now he already needed her services again. A lot of
the kids had seen her today. Shane figured this wouldn’t be his
last visit.

They stepped onto the tarmac, and the intense
heat radiating off the asphalt made Shane nauseous. He gritted his
teeth to keep the vomit down.

The air-conditioning in the infirmary hit him
like healing magic. He sighed, then sucked in a deep breath of the
refreshing coolness and heard Steve and Maurice do the same. Dr.
Blain had them take him into the exam room and lay him on the
padded table.

“There’s a little fridge in the waiting room.
Go get yourselves a drink from it, and I’ll patch him up,” she said
cheerfully to his friends.

Steve and Maurice’s eyes widened at her
offer, and they hustled out of the room.

“Okay, let’s see the damage,” she said, her
tone soft and nurturing.

She cut his shirt off, and he winced when the
bloody cloth tugged on the dowel.

“Nice one,” she said with genuine
admiration.

“I think you enjoy your job a bit too much,”
he grumbled.

“Perhaps.” Chuckling, she moved her little
medical device over the wound and then latched onto the piece of
wood. “Take a deep breath.”

He started to, but then she jerked the dowel
out. Shane moaned in agony.

“All done. The rest is easy,” she promised,
smiling compassionately.

He closed his eyes. His abdomen warmed under
her device. After she was done with the wound from the flag, she
treated his concussion and the other injuries to his face and head.
Moments later, he was mended, but he was still busted from all the
exercise.

“I want you to drink this and sit here for a
little bit before you try to get up.” She handed him a bottle of
water.

“I can’t argue with that.” Shane was parched,
and in no hurry to return to the sultry tarmac.

He drank gulps of the water and laid back.
Dr. Blain started typing notes on her futuristic computer.

“How many of you are there on Earth?” Shane
asked, wondering at how the rebels and this base seemed pretty well
prepared for their training, though there was no need for it until
a few days ago.

“Not enough.” She didn’t look up from her
work.

He suspected he’d never get a direct answer
to that question.

“Why does Captain Jones have a scar on his
face?”

Dr. Blain’s ever-present smile faded.

“It reminds him of something. But as far as I
know, he’s never told anyone what,” she replied sadly. “He was on
the ship with Lily.”

Shane’s brow rose, the revelation surprising
him, though it did make sense.

“They’re like parents to us,” she added
distantly. Then she focused on him, and her expression grew clouded
with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.”

“It’s alright,” Shane replied, glancing down
at his hands. “I’ve had a while to get used to losing my mom, so
it’s only half as bad for me as some of the kids.”

Dr. Blain put her hand on his knee, dipping
her head to capture his gaze.

“I know your training is hard, and Captain
Jones can be a—well, let’s just say—a lot to take in. If you ever
need anyone to talk to, I’m here.” Her face exuded kindness and
concern.

“Thanks,” he replied.

She was so human.

Or humans were so Anunnaki…

He suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of the
room.

 

 

“The
governments failed you kids,” she lamented. He sat upright on the
exam table, searching for an opportunity to leave without seeming
rude. “Society failed you, Shane.”

Doctor Blain paused, her expression growing
firm.

“We won’t fail you,” she said with
conviction. “When this is all over, the Earth will be a better
place.”

It sounded too much like she was saying
your parents failed you
. He was uncomfortable with her
sudden familiarity and insulted at the same time. She gazed
distantly in his direction a moment longer, then she focused on him
again, and her smile returned.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yes—much,” he said, slipping into the fresh
shirt sitting at the foot of the table.

He stood and moved toward the door.

“Good. Drink plenty of fluids, and you’ll do
fine.”

“Thanks.” He grinned, walked into the waiting
room, and then out of the building with Steve and Maurice on his
heels.

“That was weird,” he whispered once they were
outside.

“What?” Steve asked, glaring at the late
afternoon sun like he was sick of seeing it for the day.

“I had a little chat with the doctor, and
they seem to have high hopes for making the world a better place
after we defeat the Anunnaki.”

“What do you mean?” Maurice asked.

“I don’t know, but it sounded like they
intend to fill in for the adults. To take control.”

Maurice tugged his chin. “Well, better them
than us,” he said. “I wouldn’t want the responsibility of trying to
take care of the billion kids left on the planet.”

“Maybe the world will be a better place,”
Steve mused. “I mean, starting over without all the greed and
corruption.”

Shane wasn’t sure. And as far as he was
concerned, Earth belonged to humans, not these aliens. If humans
were corrupt, who was to say they didn’t inherit the trait from the
Anunnaki? Rebels or not, they might be much worse. He didn’t mind
that they were here and needed a home, and he was grateful for
their help. But, he wasn’t gung-ho about them taking charge.

Everyone else had already had dinner, so the
three friends rushed to the cafeteria and ate just before the food
was put away. Their bellies full, they found the rest of the teens
gathered outside. The sun was starting to set, and though the
shadows grew long, it still cast plenty of light across the
base.

“Join us,” Captain Jones shouted from the
middle of the tarmac.

“I ain’t running no more laps today,” Steve
grumbled, heading toward the circle of kids.

“Hang in there, big guy.” Shane slapped his
back. He wasn’t keen on any more exercise either, especially since
he’d just stuffed his gut.

“It’s been a long day,” Jones growled as they
joined the others. “But I want to take a little more of your
precious time and have some of the martial artists in the group
share their knowledge.”

Jones looked around, his sweeping gaze
connecting with everyone’s eyes.

“Our Chinese friends have extensive martial
arts training,” Jones continued. “Today, they’ll share.”

The seven Asians stepped forward and bowed to
Jones. Then they politely organized the group into rows, their
Mandarin speech translated by Shane’s earbud.

He expected to learn some hardcore kung fu.
Despite being totally exhausted, he was excited by the prospect.
Instead, a Chinese boy named Ling led them through a meditative
exercise, teaching them to breathe from the stomach, filling the
lowest part of their lungs first. The technique was rejuvenating,
though he would rather have learned a tornado kick or something
cooler.

“Breathe like this when you are tired and
need energy. Breathe like this when you are scared and need
courage. Learn to breathe like this all the time and you will be
master of your mind and body,” Ling said, sounding much older and
wiser than he looked. He bowed at the group and bowed at Jones,
showing the lesson was complete.

“You are dismissed,” Jones announced. “We
start again tomorrow at zero four hundred hours.”

“I don’t think falling asleep will be a
problem for anyone,” Jules grumbled. Her shoulders rolled forward,
and she seemed to shrink.

The seven groups of seven kids made their way
back to the barracks, most emulating Jules’ exhausted posture. In
murmured discussion and without dispute, everyone agreed to let the
girls use the communal bathroom first. Along with about half of the
other boys, Shane grabbed a set of headphones and plopped down in a
chair to study the Anunnaki films.

The rebel spy in the loop wore a video
camera. The TV showed what he saw as he walked through a curved
corridor with smooth walls painted flat gray. He passed a round
porthole and glanced out. A few stars were visible in the distance,
and a tan planet the size of a quarter hung in the infinite
nothingness.

The rebel continued up the passageway and
encountered three Anunnaki Shock Troops. They stopped and pressed
against the curved wall to get out of the way, raising their right
fists over their hearts in salute. Jones had said the Shock Troops,
with the eagle-dragon symbol on their crimson breastplates, held
the highest ranks. The soldier behind the camera must’ve been some
kind of commander or general to garner such respect.

Lily had told them the rebel they saw
executed in the battle that brought her to Earth made it fairly
high in the Anunnaki ranks. He wondered if this was that poor
schlup, destined to lose his head.

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