The Harvest

by N. W. Harris

  “If y’all are okay with it, we’re gonna go with these people,” Shane announced, his voice not coming out as loud as he intended. “They’re taking us to a military base where we’ll be safe.”

  “Should we leave our weapons?” Maurice asked, lifting his black rifle into the air.

  “No—bring them,” he replied coolly, glancing at Lily to give her another warning. She didn’t flinch, seeming unconcerned his people would be armed—another notch in her favor.

  His friends and the other kids looked at one another, then at Shane. Steve moved first, taking long, confident strides across the yard toward the field. Kelly was second, and then everyone else started walking. Excited chatter erupted amongst them. As much as he wanted to embrace the atmosphere of relief, it made Shane nervous. He feared if something did go wrong, it might be hard for him to regain control.

  When he spun and fell in step next to Kelly, her hand slipped into his. Her touch gave him lucidity, subduing his pain and calming his mind. The sun shone through the few strands of golden-blonde hair she’d missed, her ponytail pulled together in a hurry. Concern polluted her expression, her blue eyes shifting from Lily and Nat to the choppers. Her scrutiny didn’t harbor the fear of a naïve girl who might easily be deceived. Instead, she appeared to size up the situation—a soldier preparing for multiple contingencies in case things went wrong.

  Her gaze fell on him, and she squeezed his hand. No hint of awkwardness showed in her delicate features, like they’d walked hand in hand a million times and it was perfectly natural. Her eyes conveyed the trust and confidence she had in him—she’d follow him anywhere. The pain from all her loss and the horrors she’d seen made her look ten years older than she did in church a week ago.

  It hurt to remember her coming down her driveway with her T-shirt covered in her parents’ blood, calling for his help. But now she was wise to the harshest of realities, battle-hardened and capable of unrestrained violence if the situation demanded it. There was still kindness in her expression when she looked at him. Beneath her cautious and tired exterior was the sweet, Sunday choir-singing, varsity cheerleader he’d had a crush on for years. Though he admired her strength and only liked her more because of it, he intended to nurture that happier girl in her until it dominated her personality once again.

  They passed through a bent, red metal gate and into the pasture. His brow grew moist with sweat, and it got harder to ignore the dizziness and the pain from his injuries. Approaching the choppers, Shane got a better look at the other CIA types standing by the open side doors with their hands clasped behind their backs in a nonthreatening manner, presumably waiting to help load the children.

  Maybe it was because of the black suits and matching hairstyles, or maybe he was just growing delirious, but they all looked so much alike—he imagined they could be siblings. He stopped twenty feet from the aircraft and turned to Maurice.

  “Divide your best fighters so all the kids have someone older with them.” His voice sounded hoarse. Kelly put her arm around him, discreetly helping him to stand tall.

  “Don’t worry,” Maurice replied, putting a hand on his good shoulder.

  Jules stepped next to him. “We’ll make sure some loaded guns are on every one of these helicopters.”

  The squat boy and the tall, wiry girl cast stern glances at Lily. They clearly perceived that he didn’t want them to drop their guard until there was no doubt about these adults’ motives.

  Shane wanted to supervise himself, but he feared he’d collapse if he didn’t sit down soon. Leaving Maurice and Jules to tend to the rest of the kids, he followed the group surrounding Lily to the first aircraft. It was only thirty feet away, but it seemed like a mile. His hearing was muffled, and it felt like his brain was spinning in his skull, but he kept it together and took each step methodically.

  After lifting Nat aboard, Kelly climbed in and offered her hand. He must’ve looked pretty bad; her face expressed her fear that he couldn’t make it. Her kind gesture only added to his nausea. After hesitating, he took her hand. He mustered his last bit of strength and stepped up without using her help. Her needing him was okay, but him needing her was frightening. Every woman he’d needed help from in the past was dead.

  The effort it took to get in the helicopter was too much. He collapsed into one of the canvas seats. Gritting his teeth to keep from vomiting, he clung to the sides of the seat. He was vaguely aware of her settling next to him. Being off his feet, the dizziness passed, and he regained control of his senses. Kelly had taken the seat between him and Nat and had a hand on each of their forearms.

  Steve and Tracy joined them in the aircraft, along with James, Sara, and a bunch of the other kids. Some of the little ones sat two in a seat and shared a seatbelt. Once the aircraft couldn’t hold another passenger, Lily and her male counterpart closed the sliding doors on either side, climbing into the cockpit without another word to Shane or his friends.

  “Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk,” Tracy announced enthusiastically, buckling her seatbelt. “Looks like the rotors have been modified to make them stealthier. No wonder we could barely hear these babies when they landed.”

  Although he was sick from the constant pain of his injuries and was uncomfortable with the idea of flying, Shane couldn’t help but smile. Tracy would find delight in military toys no matter how bad things got.

  The whine of the engine and the rotor slapping the humid air quickly made conversation impossible. Vibrations in the aircraft amplified the pain coming from his shoulder, and he leaned forward to find comfort. Kelly put her hand on his back, eyeing him with concern. He gave her a weak grin, her touch soothing him. The helicopter lifted off the ground and climbed just above the trees, its belly scraping the forest canopy and its whirling rotors quieting to a whisper as it accelerated north.

  Although his injuries were distracting, he kept his attention on Lily and the pilot. Their black suits made them seem as out of place in the cockpit as they did on the farm. People in Leeville only wore suits for church, weddings, and funerals, and nothing as fitted and fancy as these folks sported.

  Shane’s wariness kept him on edge and gave him the strength to stay vigilant. If they had bad intentions, why bother loading him and his friends and taking them somewhere else? They could have easily disposed of them back on the farm. Heck, if they had these helicopters, it was likely they had access to some bombs or rockets. They could’ve just blasted the farmhouse and killed them all while they slept—unless maybe they were taking them to a labor camp.

  Images of concentration camps he’d seen in movies swam in his head, of starving prisoners forced to do slave labor until they died. Then there were the buses that passed the farmhouse. They might be picking up kids with the promise that they were taking them to a better place, only to deposit them behind barbed wire.

  Feeling silly for the thoughts, he leaned back and took as deep a breath as his wounds permitted. It was irrational to be too suspicious of their rescuers. They had let him and his friends bring their weapons after all. Just because he wasn’t used to people wearing fancy clothes, he didn’t trust them? How backwoods of him. But then again, if they were part of the same government who’d mucked up and killed the adults, how could they be trusted?

  Blank expressions on their tired faces, Steve and Kelly looked out of the windows. Ever the maternal type, Laura shushed some of the younger kids who were frightened by the helicopter ride. Given her jet-black hair, painted black fingernails, and pale vampire complexion, he never expected her to be so nurturing. Tracy scanned the inside of the aircraft, a mild look of awe in her usually stoic gray eyes. She was leaning forward, probably trying to keep the pressure off the stab wound in her back, but she didn’t look as faint as he felt.

  The helicopter’s engine revved, and it climbed the ridgeline into the Appalachian Mountains, going further north than he’d ever been. Shane knew there were areas of these woods where no one lived, though rumor had it moonshiners still hid out there, co
oking up their poison to sell to the old timers down in civilization. It didn’t surprise him that there was a secret base in this wilderness—it was the perfect place.

  After an hour of flying above what he imagined was the wildest country on the East Coast, the helicopters came over a large mesa that was cut into the side of a mountain, a clearing amongst the ancient trees. They settled on an asphalt runway, and Shane could see a several-acre military base stretched out around them.

  “Here we are,” Lily announced cheerfully, climbing out of the cockpit as the rotors spun down.

  She opened the side door and helped everyone out. Upon standing, Shane grew dizzy and his knees buckled. Steve caught him before he crumpled to the ground.

  “I think we’d better get you to medical,” Lily said, looking in his eyes. “Those wounds are getting the best of you.”

  Shane shook his head. “Not until I know all of my people are safe,” he replied weakly.

  “They will be well cared for,” Lily promised. “It’s time for you to trust us, Shane. You need help.”

  “Don’t worry, man,” Steve said, nodding toward the other choppers. “Maurice and his gang have them.”

  Following his gaze, Shane saw Maurice ordering the armed teenagers to round up all the children, keeping them together so he could look out for them.

  “I’m going to take Nat and go with them,” Kelly said, patting the strap of the rifle that hung off her shoulder. “Let them treat you, or you’re no good to any of us.”

  Shane glanced at the kids and then Kelly one last time before nodding to Lily.

  “Follow me,” she directed, starting across the tarmac.

  “I got you,” Steve said, slipping his thick arm around Shane’s back. “I feel like a sack of shit for cutting you like that.”

  “Wasn’t your fault,” he replied weakly, feeling less guilty about Steve’s bruised and swollen face.

  Beyond the shadow of the chopper’s main rotor, the sun shined full in his face, blinding him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, his eyelids glowing red and his face absorbing the warmth. His foot caught on a crack in the blacktop, and the jarring sent pain blazing from his shoulder. Sweat wept from his forehead, and the world spun around him. Gritting his teeth, he tried to focus on Lily’s back. Keeping it together and standing tall was all that was important at the moment. He wasn’t going to look weak in front of their hosts. He also didn’t want the kids spilling out of the helicopters to be alarmed, though they’d seen so much horror that he doubted they’d flinch even if he dropped dead.

  “Damn you, Steve.” He made an effort at chiding for a distraction. “You could’ve found a smaller knife.”

  “Hey man, go big or quit, right?” Any humor in Steve’s joke was lost, his voice ripe with worry. “You want me to carry you, man?” he whispered.

  “No way—I’m cool.”

  A bent shadow lay on the ground ahead. Seconds before, the sun had felt wonderful. Now, the tarmac was an inferno. Shane looked up at a metal building, its roof curved and corrugated like it was made out of half of a huge drainpipe. A white door with a red cross on it graced its otherwise olive-green exterior. Lily opened it and stood by, and Steve helped Shane into the air-conditioned interior. The cool air reviving him, he passed through a small outer waiting area, down a narrow hallway and into another room.

  “Put him there, and I’ll go get the doctor,” Lily said, pointing at an examination table.

  Steve guided Shane to the table, and he sat on the edge. As soon as Lily stepped out, he leaned over, too dizzy to keep his head up.

  “Whoa,” Steve exclaimed, catching him before he could roll onto the floor. “She’s gone. You can lie down, tough guy.”

  Shane didn’t resist Steve pushing him onto the padded table. The pain and dizziness faded when he lay down. He closed his eyes, taking deliberate slow breaths to try to regain his strength. If things suddenly went wacked, which had happened a lot lately, he needed to be ready to fight. Right now, he felt absolutely useless.

  The door opened, and a brunette woman wearing a white lab coat entered.

  “Lily?” Shane asked, confused as to why she’d step out saying she was off to get the doctor and return wearing a lab coat, like it was some kind of a game.

  “No—I’m Doctor Blain,” the woman replied.

  “What—are you guys twins or something?” Steve asked, confusion clear in his voice.

  “Something like that.” The woman smiled at him, and Steve blushed, glancing down.

  Shane was still suspicious of their rescuers; too many people’s safety was at stake for him not to be. He realized he couldn’t rely on his big friend’s help in figuring out what was going on, at least not with the ladies. Steve could face down a herd of the most vicious footballers without flinching, but he always turned to mush in the presence of a pretty girl.

  Dr. Blain was an exact replica of Lily, identical in every way except one of her eyes was an icy blue color, the other the same honey brown as Lily’s. A wave of nausea washed over him. It must’ve shown on his face because the doctor rushed to his side and put a hand on his forehead.

  “You’ve got an infection,” she observed with concern. “We need to seal your wounds and get some antibiotics in you.”

  She gently helped roll Shane onto his side and used scissors to cut his shirt off.

  “If you’ve got a weak stomach, you may want to step out,” she said to Steve without looking away from her work.

  The door opened and shut, Steve clearly taking the invitation to leave, probably too embarrassed by his squeamishness to say anything about it to Shane. In his weakened condition, with his shirt off and the laceration in his shoulder exposed, he felt nervous being left alone with this slightly less perfect clone of Lily.

  “Relax,” she said softly, her attention on his wound. “I’ll get you fixed up and out with your friends before lunch.”

  Not like he had a choice. He felt like crap and could tell he wasn’t going to get any better without help.

  “What about my friends? They’ve got injuries too.”

  “I’ll get to them all, but Lily seems to think yours are the worst and need immediate attention,” she replied.

  He hadn’t thought so earlier, but with the way he felt right now, he was starting to agree with her.

  After cutting his shirt to shreds and removing it without making him move his arm, she prepared two shots on the bedside table.

  “One of these will ease your pain, and the other will knock out the infection,” she explained, inverting little glass vials and filling the syringes.

  Of course, she could be filling them with poison for all he knew. Keeping his face blank, he stared at the ceiling. He didn’t want to let on how much he hated needles—he’d rather be punched in the face than get a shot. The first injection in the shoulder must’ve been the painkiller, because he didn’t even feel the second one. The doctor moved around the examination room, gathering supplies to treat his injuries. By the time she returned to his side, Shane felt a million times better. The pain medicine didn’t cloud his consciousness. He was fully awake and a bit nervous as he watched her remove the last of the blood-soaked gauze from his chest.

  “At least you got some betadine on this,” she said. “It might’ve gotten a lot worse otherwise.”

  Thanks to Tracy’s first aid knowledge, Shane thought, trying to ignore the smell of blood and keep his eyes on the ceiling.

  Dr. Blain squirted a numbing solution on the wound and dabbed it with clean gauze. Curiosity won out, and he got a clear view of the jagged cut Steve gave him. It was a bloody mess, like two long strips of poorly butchered steak lay on his chest and shoulder. What appeared to be a rib was visible at the bottom of this meat valley, and his collarbone had to be exposed at the top. Nausea returned in a hot flash, his mouth filling with metallic saliva.

  “Maybe you should look the other way,” Dr. Blain advised.

  Rolling his head toward the wall, he c
losed his eyes, breathing slow and deep to recover. He felt no pain as Dr. Blain scrubbed his wound, though the sound of the bristles on the brush she was using to scrape it clean only increased his nausea. Then came a humming sound accompanied by soothing warmth around the injury. He kept his eyes closed, his teeth clamped shut. Determined not to get sick, he thought of Kelly, of being strong for her. He wished she were here with him now, but he also didn’t want her to see him acting so weak.

  Daring a glance at his chest, he saw Dr. Blain moving a pencil-sized tool over his gash. It was white, with a silver button near its tip, which she depressed with her forefinger. Blue light projected from a small, glass ball floating an inch in front of the device, fanning out and illuminating his injury.

  Amazement swept away his nausea and disgust at viewing his insides. Under the effervescent light, the damaged tissue in his shoulder and chest regenerated. Lacerated blood vessels elongated and reconnected, muscle tissue reformed, and the jagged sides of the wound rejoined from the bottom up. Dr. Blain moved the light slowly over the area, and the laceration closed, leaving fresh, unblemished skin in its wake.

  Although he experienced no pain, the sight of his miraculous healing was more than he could bear in his weakened state. He fought to stay alert, but a haze closed in on his vision, and then darkness.

  Opening his eyes, Shane glanced frantically around the white walls and ceiling of the room. It took a second for him to gain his bearings, to remember he was in the medical clinic on a military base hidden somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains.

  Dr. Blain sat on a stool a couple of feet from him, typing on a computer that seemed entirely created of light. A holographic screen hovered in front of her, both it and the keyboard projecting from a dice-sized silver cube. Technology he’d never seen or heard of. He expected the government had things they didn’t share with the public, but the advanced computer she used and the healing pen that closed his wounds were full-on science fiction.