The Harvest

by N. W. Harris

  “Okay,” he replied. “But steer clear of the other teams.”

  “Don’t worry.” She winked at him. “I can handle myself.”

  He knew she could, but he kept an eye on her until she made it to the kids’ tables. And when he sat down with the rest of Team AA, he took a stool on the side that allowed him to face in her direction so he could make sure nothing stupid happened.

  “We should say grace,” Maurice announced, stopping half the kids mid-bite. He gave them all a firm look. “We need God on our side, now more than ever.”

  Shane wasn’t opposed to praying. His dad wasn’t openly religious and never went to church, but Granny always said grace before eating. So had his mother before she died. The Aussies looked at one another, then at the Americans, a mild expression of discomfort and surprise on their faces.

  “Sorry,” Laura replied sincerely. “But I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

  Maurice studied her for a moment, his face blank like he was processing. Without any expression of disappointment, he grinned and said, “Okay.”

  He lowered his head and interlaced his fingers, his lips moving silently as he said his prayer.

  Whether she was accustomed to saying grace or was just trying to make sure Maurice didn’t feel alone, Jules also began to pray. Knowing the boy’s strength came from his spirituality, Shane wanted to support him. However, when he lowered his head, anger flashed in him. He hadn’t given God much thought since the animals started attacking the adults. Then, he’d worried it may be the beginning of the apocalypse mentioned in the Bible. But the things that had happened, the things he’d seen, didn’t inspire faith.

  He kept his head down, knowing he needed to be careful and not insult anyone else’s beliefs. Whether they bowed their heads or not, he reckoned faith might be the only thing to carry some of them through the hardest moments they’d likely endure. It sure seemed to be Maurice’s primary motivation.

  When Maurice whispered amen, Shane waited a few seconds more, and then lifted his head. A few of the kids in the Israeli group were looking at his table. One of them nodded at him and gave a little grin. Perhaps they were religious too and respected how some of the kids at his table had said grace. If it earned them more allies, Shane would do it at every meal, regardless of how much it pissed him off.

  Everyone fell on their food like they’d just been rescued from a deserted island and hadn’t eaten in months. No one spoke a word for the ten minutes it took for their plates to be picked clean.

  “She have someone over there?” Jake, the wiry Aussie with black hair asked, nodding in Kelly’s direction. He had bright, almond-shaped eyes and a splash of brown freckles across his nose and cheeks.

  “Yeah,” Shane replied. “A little sister.”

  “Makes it so much harder.” The boy’s voice cracked. “I’ve a little brother back home. Miss him so much. She’s lucky to have her family close by.”

  “Is he being cared for?” It stung to think Shane didn’t have any family left.

  “Yeah. The aliens promised they’d set up facilities to look after the younger kids.”

  “That’s good,” Shane said.

  “It is. I wouldn’t have left my brother if I didn’t think he was safe,” he replied, a tremor in his voice.

  Lily made it seem like there weren’t that many of her kind. There had to be more than just a handful in different countries around the world to be able to raise armies and take care of the young. There must be thousands, if not hundreds of thousands.

  Shane finished his meal, never taking his eyes off Kelly. He watched her hug her sister and make her way across the cafeteria to his table.

  “You okay?”

  “Just barely.” She used a finger to scrape away a tear. “She seems happy. Apparently, they’ve set up a building with lots of toys, and they’re starting school today.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  “Of course. I just miss her so much. I feel like we should be spending more time together, after what happened.” Her voice trailed off.

  “Well,” Steve said, blinking his eyes like he was suppressing a wave of emotion, “let’s kick some Anunnaki butt so you can get back to her.” As far as Shane knew, he didn’t have anyone left either.

  The rest of the table stood, and they headed to the hangar where Jones spoke to them earlier. This time, the Aussies sat in the same row as the Americans. The Russians came in afterwards. Tracy sat at the end of the row. She stuck her foot out just as one of the dark-haired, cackling boys who’d harassed Steve in the bathroom walked by.

  She locked ankles with him and jerked her leg back. The boy crashed forward, hitting the Russian girl in front of him. Both landed in a pile on the floor.

  “Oops. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Tracy asked sarcastically.

  The Russian girl snapped at the boy and pushed him off her. He stood and gave a threatening smile.

  “Oh yes, we are fine,” he said in English with his thick accent.

  “Too bad,” Steve said hostilely. “Better luck next time.”

  The rest of the Russians gathered around the two who’d fallen. They glared at Shane’s group, perhaps deciding if they wanted a fight.

  “You Yanks having troubles?” Liam asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Shane couldn’t help joining in the fun. “I’m not sure if y’all have been introduced. Australians, meet the Russians.”

  “Pleasure, I’m sure,” Liam replied.

  “To answer your question…” Shane looked at the Russian boy and girl, raising his brow. “I don’t know. Are we having troubles?”

  “Please say yes,” Steve said, crossing his thick arms.

  They scowled at the Americans and Aussies for a moment, then continued up two rows and took their seats.

  “I didn’t think so,” Tracy said.

  “I thought we weren’t going to sink to their level,” Kelly, who was sitting on Shane’s right, scolded.

  “I never said that,” Tracy snapped. “We have to show those losers we ain’t taking any crap, or they’ll never leave us alone.”

  Shane’s gaze fell on the kids from Finland. All but two were blonds, and they had pale skin. They chatted quietly among themselves, but he didn’t see any of them smile.

  “Those guys look tough,” Liam said quietly, following Shane’s gaze.

  “Know anything about them?”

  “Not much, but I’ve heard the Finns are not to be trifled with. You know their little country had to fend off the USSR for a long time.”

  “That’s good,” Shane whispered, trying to remember his geography. “Maybe they’ll side with us if push comes to shove.”

  “Quiet,” Captain Jones ordered, mounting the stage.

  His sweeping scrutiny connected with everyone’s eyes, as if ensuring he had their attention before beginning the lecture. The effect was immediate. All forty-nine kids fell silent.

  “A critical part of your training will be conducted in simulations. The device in your ear will create the simulations in your brain while your body sits motionless in these chairs.”

  Shane wondered what else the tiny piece of advanced technology could do. Perhaps blow their heads off if they suddenly weren’t compliant.

  “Once the neural link is activated, you’ll no longer be aware of this reality. Through these simulations, you will get an intimate exposure to Anunnaki technology and to the mission in general.”

  Shane glanced nervously at Kelly. He wasn’t excited about having the earbud take over his senses, but couldn’t come up with a reasonable objection.

  “The first time can be a bit of a shock,” Jones warned. “Close your eyes and relax.”

  He closed his eyes but held his breath in anticipation. Kelly’s hand slipped into his, and he squeezed. A flash of white burst through his brain, accompanied by a buzzing sound, like a bee was stuck in his ear. Shane opened his eyes and blinked at the brightness. The light faded to normal sunlight, and he was standing o
n a flat field with shortly mown grass, like a golf course with no hills, flags, or holes. There was no end to the perfectly level terrain. It stretched to the horizon, meeting a cloudless, blue sky.

  “Holy crap,” Steve muttered.

  Shane rotated toward his voice and saw the other forty-eight kids standing in a cluster behind him. They had stunned expressions, glancing at each other and at the field in bewilderment. They were dressed in the red armor he’d seen the rebels and the Anunnaki wearing in the video of the battle Lily had shown them just after they arrived at the base. The girls’ armor had wider hips and a more feminine curve to the chests and shoulders, but otherwise, they were all identical. Shane felt a gurgle in his stomach, and a metallic taste corrupted his mouth. One of the Finns turned and barfed on the grass.

  “Gross,” Laura hissed, her face green. She pushed by him to get away from the boy.

  “On second thought, maybe they’re not so tough,” Liam observed, looking a bit pale himself.

  “This first time in the simulation can cause some nausea,” Jones explained, strolling around the perimeter of the group. “Understand that you are not really getting sick. You’re still sitting in the chair in the hangar. This field, the armor you wear, and the vomit in your mouth are all a creation in your mind. Everyone take a deep breath. Relax and don’t fight the simulation.”

  Hoping to stop himself from being the next to hurl, Shane did as instructed and saw the rest of the kids do the same. Jones had them breathe deep for a minute until everyone’s pallor returned to normal.

  “Wicked,” Jake said, examining the red armor.

  It was. Shane imagined this was the future of video games—if there was a future at all.

  “This is the extent of the simulation today—it is a chance for you to grow accustomed to the artificial environment. Tomorrow, you will begin training for the mission in here. Meanwhile, we are going to introduce some things you will need to become familiar with to infiltrate the enemy.

  “The kids who are under the effect of the slave gene will learn to use their armor and weapons via the neural link to the Anunnaki. We’re experimenting with a program that may allow you to upload information in the same way, but it is not safe to use yet, and it may not be ready before the enemy attacks. You have to act like you have a similar proficiency or you’ll draw unwanted attention to yourselves. For now, these simulations are the only way we can ensure the required level of preparedness.”

  Holding a crimson helmet under his arm, he stepped into the center of the group, and everyone backed up to give him space. Jones wore the same armor, though the part covering his chest and back was decorated with a large, eagle-dragon emblem where Shane and the others had a solitary, vertical black stripe running along the ridge of their breastplates from navel to chin.

  “The Anunnaki have this one uniform for military use. They wear it for ceremony, for training, and for battle,” Jones boomed. “It is lightweight, self-cleaning, and the armor can stop a fifty-caliber round.

  “Insignia on the uniform shows their rank, what battles they’ve fought in, and displays their awards.” As he spoke, he pointed at the upper right side of the eagle-dragon, the upper left, and then the bottom. “The uniform demands respect and loyalty from the lower ranks. Not only provided for protection, it’s designed to intimidate the enemy, to strike fear in their hearts.”

  Shane knew the red armor, so glossy it appeared to be painted with fresh blood, would scare the crap out of him if he saw an army of soldiers wearing it coming his way. It was complete, from the helmet that had an angry-looking, V-shaped, tented glass visor, to the matching gloves and boots—no part of the wearer’s body was left unprotected. Other than the ridge down the center, the breastplate had a smooth construction. It reminded Shane of medieval jousting armor, designed to deflect the impact of a weapon head-on.

  “This emblem is worn by the Anunnaki elite Shock Troops,” Jones said, pointing at his chest. “Slave soldiers wear the vertical black line on the front and back of the armor that you see on your chests.

  “In Anunnaki culture, anyone, regardless of birth, can rise to the highest rank by being courageous in battle. Less than two percent get to wear this emblem, and they lead the lower ranks and are treated with the utmost respect by everyone.”

  The symbol and the armor looked rather earthly, not what Shane would’ve expected invading aliens to wear. After learning the Anunnaki had genetically engineered humans, enslaving ancient societies, he began to wonder how many things stemmed from the influence of these space-traveling conquistadors. How much of mythology was from human imagination and how much of it was based on actual experience?

  “The armor has muscle-assisting technology that will amplify your strength tenfold. Park,” he said, looking at the Koreans. “Step forward.”

  A tall, somber-faced Korean kid approached the alien. Jones instructed him to remove his armored glove and handed him a steel ball.

  “Crush this. Squeeze it with your hand until it collapses.”

  Park took the ball and did as he was told. His face contorted with effort, but he couldn’t crush it.

  “Now, put the glove back on,” Jones said, holding the ball until the black-haired kid did as he was told. “And try again.”

  Park flexed the fingers of the glove a couple of times, his eyes growing bright with curiosity. He took the ball again and squeezed. There was a cracking sound and a squeak as the metal scraped on itself. The sphere, which apparently had been hollow, was flattened in Park’s gloved hand. The boy grinned and held the pancaked piece of metal up for everyone to see.

  “You and the other humans will be taken into the Anunnaki ships and given this armor. We will provide you with a Shock Troop emblem to apply to the chest and back once you slip away from the enslaved kids. It will allow you to move about the vessel with a degree of impunity. Once you destroy the reactor, the power supply to the armor will be cut.”

  Bleeping sounds came from everyone’s suits, and Shane suddenly felt the weight of the armor. It wasn’t much heavier than his football pads, but it must have had some sort of air-conditioning in it. With the power off, it immediately felt too warm inside.

  “As you are experiencing now, the onboard computer, environmental systems, and muscle enhancement will cease to function. Once you cut the power, you’ll have the physical advantage, but don’t underestimate the Shock Troops. They train for combat in dormant armor. Any questions?”

  Captain Jones looked around. Most of the kids seemed excited about the new toys, but it reminded Shane of the dangerous job that lay ahead. No matter how much they trained, it was still just a bunch of kids attacking an empire of advanced aliens. Shane had a thousand questions, too many to settle on just one. But then, they’d only been fed bits and pieces of the strategy to this point. He would try to have faith in the training; there was nothing else to be done at this point.

  “Next, we will talk about the three primary weapons Anunnaki carry into battle,” Jones continued. The power returned to their suits, and he held the helmet out to his side. It vanished, replaced by a high-tech rifle. “This is the standard-issue assault rifle. All soldiers carry this weapon. As some of you might have guessed by watching the battle films, the weapons use plasma bursts, not the bullets you are accustomed to on this planet. The bursts are the size of a large caliber round and carry enough energy to melt through any metal your militaries use on tanks and armored vehicles.”

  “Can it go through this body armor?” Liam asked, raising his hand.

  “Finally, someone speaks,” Jones growled. “Yes. The armor cannot resist a direct hit. A shot from this weapon will sear a hole as big as my fist in you, causing unimaginable pain. It is not a pleasant way to die.”

  “I gotta get my hands on one of those,” Steve whispered, eyes gleaming.

  “Yes please,” Tracy seconded.

  Shane wasn’t as enthusiastic. He still didn’t like guns, knives, or anything else made for killing. He’d lea
rned to use them in the fight for survival that ensued when the adults were killed off, and it turned out he was a pretty good shot. But he’d never get excited like Steve and Tracy.

  “Next, we move on to a smaller weapon, carried only by Shock Troops and higher-ranking officials,” Jones said. He held the rifle out like the helmet before. It vanished and was replaced by a pistol. The gun was not much larger than the ones police officers carry, but it had a bigger grip and larger trigger, presumably designed to be easy to use with the added bulk of the armored gloves.

  “The elite soldiers carry this weapon at all times. It is used in combat and is used to purge the slave ranks of those who are not functioning properly. If a slave disobeys a command in battle, or shows any sign that they are no longer under telepathic control, the Shock Troops will quickly dispatch them.”

  “Such nice people,” Kelly said under her breath, seeming as enthusiastic about the weapons lecture as Shane was.

  “While we will be able to provide you with the emblem of the Shock Troop, you will not be issued this pistol. The Anunnaki will only issue rifles to the enslaved humans. Be forewarned, during your mission, this is one of the things that may give away that you are not real Shock Troops.”

  “Lastly, we get to what you might call the Swiss Army Knife of the Anunnaki soldier.” An I-shaped rod replaced the pistol. It was three inches in diameter and about eight-inches long. “This device emits a controlled plasma beam at any desired length up to six feet.”

  He activated it, and a white rod of energy rose from the front of the device. Jones held it out away from him, grimacing from its brightness and heat. Shane was at least fifteen feet away, and he felt the warmth coming from the beam.

  “This is used as a cutting tool in most cases, for breaking into bunkers where their enemy hides, for cutting through wreckage and such, but some soldiers occasionally use it in a fight,” Jones explained, deactivating the tool and holding it out so everyone could inspect it. “The blade can be made thinner and curved. It can also be turned into a whip or affixed to the rifle like a bayonet.”