by S. J. West
“She never talked about her family much,” I said of the woman who pretended to be my mother. “Why is that?”
“I assume she never mentioned me to you because she didn’t want competition for your loyalty. She probably didn’t mention our parents because it was too painful to remember them, much less explain what happened.”
“Why would it be painful?”
A shadow passed over my mother’s face like she was hiding behind it to mask her true feelings from me.
“They died when we were young. Our father wasted away from cancer, and my mother died shortly after him.”
“Of what?”
“A broken heart I presume.” My mother leaned toward me and gripped my arm tightly making sure I listened to her next words. “That’s why emotions are dangerous, Skye. They can drown you in self-pity, making you forget everything else which should be important. They make you weak and pathetic. My mother’s weakness orphaned Emma and me. After our mother died, we came here to live with our grandmother. She raised us until she died, but by that time I was already well on my way to becoming who I am today. I’m only sorry she didn’t live long enough to see the woman I became. She taught me everything there is to know about discipline and respect. If it wasn’t for her giving me order in my life, I would have never become queen.”
Before I had a chance to ask any more questions, my mother opened the door of the helicopter and stepped out. I followed her wondering how her life and the world would have been different if my grandmother had been a stronger person.
We walked up the steps of a limestone veranda and entered the house through a set of French doors. A line of ten Harvesters stood at attention on either side of the doors as we entered. One man broke the line and came to stand in front of us.
“We have prepared the visitors for your arrival, my Queen.”
“Have you had any more trouble with Ash?”
“No, my Queen. He has not transported since the experiment started. Neither of them seems to be able to access their abilities at the moment.”
“How odd,” my mother said, like she was making a mental note of the abnormality. “It’s just as well. It allows me to observe the experiment without having to worry about keeping their powers inert. Where are they now?”
“They are presently in the sitting room, my Queen.”
“And how is Zoe handling the extra strain?”
“Eating an extraordinary amount, even for someone in her condition.”
“It’s to be expected. Just make sure she gets whatever she needs.”
The man bowed and walked back to his spot in line.
My mother turned to me. “Follow me. It’s time you understand the importance of what I’m doing.”
I trailed behind my mother as she walked me through the home, absently noticing the tasteful Victorian design of the furnishings and architecture. It wasn’t long before we arrived in a glass sitting room in the west wing of the house. Ash’s back was to us as he squatted beside Zoe, who seemed to be lying on a chaise lounge chair. When he heard us enter the room, Ash immediately stood and turned toward us, unblocking my view of Zoe. My mother continued to walk to the pair while I came to a complete standstill. The sight of Zoe temporarily made me forget how to walk.
Zoe tried to swing her feet to the floor, but her protruding stomach seemed to deter her movement. Ash quickly placed one of her arms across his shoulders to help her stand.
“I see you are progressing quite nicely,” my mother said, coming to stand in front of the people I once naively considered to be part of my family.
“Skye,” Zoe said, beseeching me with her large blue eyes, “help us.”
I stood silently staring at the two before asking, “How is she pregnant?”
My mother turned to me and smiled. “I wanted to see if two people with abilities would in turn produce a progeny with abilities.”
My eyes were immediately drawn to Ash. “Are you the father?”
“It’s not what you think, Skye,” Ash said, mistaking my question for some form of jealousy instead of what it really was: curiosity. “Zoe and I never. …” He let the words fade knowing I would understand his meaning without him embarrassing us all with the words and mental picture they would form.
“Sex is not the only way to conceive children,” my mother said. “Artificial insemination is far more reliable and controllable.”
“Skye.” Zoe held her hand out to me, desperately needing her best friend’s comfort.
I looked from Zoe’s forlorn face to Ash’s confused one.
“You didn’t tell them about me?” I asked my mother.
“No, I didn’t want to upset Zoe during the first part of her pregnancy. Would you like to tell them, daughter?”
With the use of the term “daughter,” I could already tell Ash and Zoe suspected the truth. Zoe’s eyes pooled with tears, and Ash’s stance seemed stiffer.
“I’m a Harvester now,” I told them. “I’ve finally become what I was meant to be.”
Zoe let out an anguished cry. My announcement seemed to weaken her knees, because she immediately sat back down on the chaise lounge. Ash stood stoically by her side holding her hand as she sobbed uncontrollably. I couldn’t draw my eyes away from Zoe for some reason. The sight of her anguish caused a faint twinge of pain inside my chest.
“There’s no reason for you to be so upset,” I told her. “It’s not horrible like everyone says.”
“No reason?” she wailed. “She’s turned you into what you hate the most!”
“I was wrong,” I said. “Harvesters aren’t the enemy. They’re the next step in evolution. I just didn’t see it until I became one.”
“How did Jace let this happen?” Ash asked tersely. “I thought he was supposed to protect you!”
“Why are you men so egotistical?” I countered. “You always think a man is supposed to save the day. And don’t even start promising me you’ll find a way to make me human again. I’ve had about as much of that type of talk as I can stand. I don’t want to be human again.”
“You can’t mean that, Skye,” Zoe whined.
I looked to my mother. “Are we done here? I’d rather not have to deal with this unnecessary drama.”
The sooner I got away from Zoe, the surer I felt the growing pain in my chest would fade.
“We’re almost done.” My mother walked to a Bombay chest against the right wall and opened the top drawer. From there, she pulled out a pair of white gloves with some sort of silver wires attached to the palms.
“Do we have to do this now?” Ash asked. “Can’t you see how upset she is?”
“Do you think I care how upset she is?” my mother countered. “Just lift her shirt so I can see how the children are doing. Or do you want them to die?”
“Let her look, Ash,” Zoe said, lying back on the chair and lifting her own shirt to reveal a stretch mark streaked belly.
My mother put the gloves on and placed one hand on Zoe’s belly while holding the other hand out in front of her. A holographic image of three babies materialized in the air above her outstretched hand, and the distinct rhythmic sounds of hearts beating filled the room.
After a few minutes of examining the hologram, my mother said, “They seem to be doing quite well considering how quickly they’ve developed.”
“What will you do with them after they’re born?” I asked my mother.
“It all depends on whether or not they develop abilities of their own. If they do, I intend to convert them into Harvesters when they come of age.”
This news made Zoe begin to cry again.
“Can we leave now?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the effect Zoe’s anguish was having on me.
My mother stood and placed the ultrasound machine back where she had gotten it. Ash knelt down beside Zoe and pulled her shirt back over her belly while gently rubbing her stomach in a comforting manner.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to see how things are progressing,” my mother told t
hem as she walked to me.
As I turned to follow my mother out of the room, I unconsciously glanced in Zoe’s direction and met her tear-filled gaze. She silently mouthed the words “help us” to me. I stared at her for a moment wondering why her pain was affecting me so much. I didn’t allow myself to dwell on it before turning away from her to follow my mother out of the room.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Zoe’s soft whimpers seemed determined to haunt me even after I left her. I felt like turning around and slamming my fist in her face to make her shut up. Why I once considered humans stronger than Harvesters was beyond me. Humans were constantly making decisions based solely on overwrought emotions. They weren’t able to think clearly enough to separate themselves from a situation and grasp the bigger picture. If Zoe had the clarity of a Harvester, she would understand what a great privilege my mother had bestowed upon her. She would be the first woman to give birth to the next generation of gifted children, paving the way for the enhancement of the Harvester race. How could she not see the importance in that?
“When will she have the babies?” I asked my mother.
“Within the next two days is my guess.”
“Queen Lucena!”
The older Harvester who had greeted us when we first entered my mother’s home walked briskly toward us.
“Yes, Walsh? What is it?”
“We have your daughter’s residence ready for her inspection.”
“Good, fetch the car so you can drive her over there.”
“I thought I would be staying with you,” I said to my mother, not understanding why she would send me away so soon after our reunion.
“We’ll be together for all of eternity,” she replied. “I thought you might like to have your own place while we are at this camp, since I need to keep an eye on Zoe’s progress. Was I wrong in thinking you would rather not be here while Zoe and Ash are?”
“No, you’re right. I don’t want to be around them,” I admitted. “You always seem to know what’s best for me before I do.”
My mother smiled and cupped the side of my face tenderly. “I’m glad you see that now. All I’ve ever wanted to do is protect you. Jon and Emma just couldn’t understand that.”
My mother walked me outside to the front of the house where Walsh pulled up in a little silver sports car.
“Walsh will escort you to your home. Feel free to go wherever you want while you’re here. Everyone has been given strict instructions to do anything you ask them to do. If anyone doesn’t do what you instruct, tell me. I’ll deal with them personally.”
The drive between my mother’s home and my new residence was rather boring since it was so late at night. There were no people on the streets except for guard patrols. A camp’s curfew was strictly upheld. Anyone caught out past seven in the evening and before seven in the morning were immediately harvested, no questions asked, no reprieves given. At least that’s what I remembered.
The neighborhoods looked almost normal except there weren’t any cars parked in the driveways and all the windows of the houses were barred. That was the beauty, or nightmare if you were a human, of the breeding camps. You were able to act out an almost normal life. The torture came when you realized you were only a puppet doing exactly what your masters wanted. Normality was within your reach but always unobtainable.
“We were only told a few hours ago that you would be coming,” Walsh said, the fear in his voice palpable. It made me wonder what the Harvesters had been told about me.
“Are you about to try to make an excuse for something?” I asked dryly.
Walsh cleared his throat. “No ma’am. I just wanted you to know that we would have done more to welcome you if we’d had more time. If you find there’s something that you need, all you have to do is ask for it—anything at all.”
“How many humans are in this camp?”
“Currently we have ten thousand humans. This is one of the Queen’s largest camps. We also have a harvesting and growth facility on site.”
“Growth facility?”
“It used to be called the Nursery before the Queen upgraded how we store the humans while they grow.”
“Show me.”
“Now?”
“Do you have something better to do?”
“No,” Walsh stammered. “I’ll take you there immediately.”
Walsh turned the car around in a vacant driveway and started to drive back the way we came.
“The growth facility is near the river,” he said without giving a reason why that fact seemed important enough to say.
Walsh pulled up to a chain-link fence surrounding a large compound with several large metal warehouses and smaller buildings within. Guard towers surrounded the structure every twenty feet. Walsh pulled up to the guard house, nodding his head to the Harvester standing within. When the guard saw Walsh was the one driving the car, he immediately did something to make the gate open remotely and allow us entry.
Walsh pulled up to the nearest warehouse and parked in front of its double doors. When I stepped out of the car, I heard the distinctive notes of classical music being played. It appeared to be emanating from the warehouse.
“Why is there music playing?” I asked Walsh.
“It’s used as a stimulant for the subjects.”
“But it’s nighttime. Shouldn’t they be asleep?”
“It would probably be simpler if you just saw for yourself what the Queen has devised,” Walsh said, opening one of the heavy metal doors to allow me entry into the warehouse.
When I walked in, the music was now joined by the rhythmic hum of machinery. A series of oversized metal drums lined either wall of the structure. Each stood twenty feet tall and easily had a diameter just as wide. A few Harvesters in lab coats could be seen with clipboards in their hands studying illuminated panels on each metal cylinder.
In the camp my family stayed in, the Nursery was a form of torture for those who had children taken to it. The children were raised by the Harvesters and given growth hormones to accelerate their maturation. Ash’s mother would sometimes sneak close to the one in our camp to catch a glimpse of the children taken from her at birth. When she came back, her eyes would be puffy from crying. Ash never spoke about what his mother did, and I never understood why she would purposely torture herself over something she had no control over. It was just another example of human sentimentality that did nothing but cause them pain.
Although I felt sure I already knew the answer, I had to ask: “Where are the humans?”
Walsh motioned with his hand for me to follow him toward one of the black drums.
“We try to keep from talking too much in the warehouses,” he said to me in a low voice, just loud enough for me to hear him over the mechanical hum and music. “Sometimes they can hear you and become agitated.”
Walsh led me up a steep ladder on the side of one of the drums to a platform at the top. There was a control panel with various buttons situated in the middle of the platform. After Walsh pushed the keys in a specific sequence, I heard the gentle lap of water as half of the cover on the drum lifted back to a ninety degree angle. Lights flickered within the depths of the cylinder, illuminating for me what the human race had been brought down to.
Within the watery confines were a multitude of bodies hung on racks like pieces of clothing. They were all wrapped in a white latex material with various black tubes attached to different parts of their torsos. Some of the bodies looked like full-size adults, and some looked only as long as both my hands put together. But all the bodies were missing something.
“Where are their limbs?” I asked.
“To optimize room in the drums, we cut the legs and arms off. Then we wrap them in a waterproof latex, which stretches as they grow. We use the river water to keep them at just the right incubation temperature.”
“What do you do with all the arms and legs you collect?”
“We recycle them like we do the meat that’s left over from a harvest
ed body.”
I drug my eyes away from the hypnotic sway of the living corpses in the water and looked at Walsh. “Recycle them as what?”
“Food for the humans. They can’t seem to tell the difference. As long as they get fresh meat, they don’t question where it comes from. Humans tend to see what they want to see.”
“Are they conscious in there?” I asked.
“Only in the barest sense of the word. They’re aware of things to a very small degree. That’s why we keep the music playing day and night. It seems to keep them calm.”
I turned my attention back to the bodies, wondering if any of them could hear me. For some reason, the sight of their mutilated bodies disturbed me, especially the smaller ones. The solution my mother had come up with seemed flawless, but trapping humans in a semi-self-aware state between life and death struck a dissonant chord within me. A small voice in the corner of my mind began to scream that I should do something to help the poor souls trapped in limbo. I turned away from the sight in front of me, hoping to quiet the small part of my humanity that seemed determined to reawaken.
“You can take me to my house now,” I told Walsh as I made my way back down the stairs.
As we exited the warehouse, a white van was passing through the gate to enter the compound and heading for a building directly across the way from us. Once parked in front of the structure, the driver stepped out and went to the back of the van to open the double doors. The muffled cries of countless babies could be heard coming from the interior of the van. An orderly line of five Harvesters stepped out of the building, each pushing a dolly to the rear of the vehicle. The driver pulled out a series of plastic boxes with air holes and stacked them onto the dollies. Once a dolly was loaded, it was wheeled back inside the building.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of someone in white standing by the gate in the fence watching me. When I turned my head to get a better look, they were gone. I knew who it was though: Rose. Shaking off the odd sensation of being watched by her, I got back into the car so Walsh could drive me home.
I stared absently out the window on my side of the car as we passed through the darkened neighborhoods, until something caught my attention.