Reaping The Harvest (Harvest Trilogy, Book 3) (36 page)

“Yes,” Zohreh nodded. “The payload design is complete and ready for integration into the virion carrier. Then we can begin replication.”

Naomi smiled. It was partly genuine. The harvesters had sequenced the code in a matter of hours. She felt like a child beside them.

But children can be clever. While the monsters had been working at a blinding pace recoding their species’ DNA to their own ends, she had completed the work that she and Harmony had begun. Using the sequences from Melissa’s DNA that were associated with the Morgellons fibers in her skin, Naomi was able to pin down their location in the harvester DNA. After comparing those sequences across a set of samples taken from mature harvesters and those transforming from the larval stage, she determined that those genes controlled the growth of the harvester skeletal structure.

While the harvesters put the finishing touches on their creation, she did the same for hers by splicing the appropriate elements of a particular mutation of the human ACVR1 gene into the harvester skeletal control sequence. That bit of information was known only by Naomi, and is what she had been working on when Zohreh crept up behind her.

“Good. That’s very good, Zohreh.” Naomi was relieved to be able to say something that was true. The harvesters were very adept at ferreting out lies.
 

Zohreh glanced at Naomi’s computer screen. “I could not help but notice that you were looking at the genes associated with our skeletal growth.” She cocked her head to one side, her dark eyes fixed on Naomi’s. “You were able to identify them using patterns from Melissa’s DNA, no doubt. But I am curious, for what purpose?”

Naomi’s blood ran cold. The harvesters had never been given access to the data on Melissa’s DNA. Even here, that information had been stored in a special encrypted file on the backup disks Renee had brought, and to which only Naomi had access. While the harvesters had seen Melissa after the attack on SEAL-2, no one had ever spoken about her importance, or even mentioned her name, in the harvesters’ presence. Only three people among the lab crew had known about Melissa’s DNA: Harmony Bates, Carly Walker, and Naomi herself. Naomi certainly hadn’t mentioned anything, Carly was tight-lipped about everything around the harvesters, working on her own as much as she could, and Jack had confirmed that Harmony was dead.

And yet, somehow the harvesters knew about the use of Melissa’s DNA. But did they know just how important it was?

Tell the truth, as much as you have to, but as little as you can, or she’ll kill you
. “She has a dreadful disease that has genetic markers that match part of your DNA,” Naomi told her, looking the thing right in the eye. “Studying those gene sequences has given me some ideas about how we might be able to heal her with gene therapy derived from the viral delivery system we developed at SEAL-2.”
 

Zohreh smiled, but her eyes were dead. “That seems to be an ill-timed endeavor in order to save a single girl, when your entire world is at stake.”

Undaunted, Naomi leaned closer, spilling out some of her anger to mask her fear. “Every one of our lives has become priceless. And the technique could be adapted to cure many forms of disease. While I’ve worked in genetics labs for most of my career, I’m also a physician. If I can find a way to save lives in the moments I might have free while aiding you, then I will. Is that a problem?”

The harvester stared at her for a moment more. The lab had fallen silent as everyone, human and harvester alike, turned to watch the confrontation.
 

After a moment, Zohreh smiled. “No, it is not a problem. I hope you succeed. Doctor.”

Flashing a beauty pageant smile, the creature turned away and went back to her workstation.

After watching Zohreh go, Naomi sat back down. She quietly let out a long breath before calling up her Trojan Horse. She put on the finishing touches, then sent the data to the machines that would create a new form of microbial life.

***

“You are such an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Ferris helped Kurnow to her feet, feeling like an absolute louse for having zapped her. “The good news is that Boisson won’t kill you now that we’re sure you’re human. Assuming the crazy fool is still alive.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

He shook his head and led her to the cockpit, which was brightly lit from outside.
 

“Oh, my God,” Kurnow breathed when she looked outside.
 

“Yeah.” The other KC-135 that had been on the main apron was a huge flaming pile of metal, and the rising cloud of black smoke blotted out half the stars in the sky. “I hope the crazy wench made it out.”

They stared at the fire for a minute before Ferris said, “Listen, how much can you tell me about this plane? You said the pressurization problem was fixed, so I assume it’s airworthy, right? What about fuel?”

She nodded. “She’ll fly. We were going to leave right after the pressurization checks were done, then we were going to taxi back to the main apron to fuel up for the next mission.”

“So we need gas.”

“Yeah. I think we’ve only got the mandatory fuel aboard for forward trim and enough in the wing tanks for a short flight, but that’s it.”

“Shit.” Ferris rubbed his chin. “That complicates things. A lot.”

“Can’t we just taxi over to the main apron and plug into one of the fuel hydrants there?”

Shaking his head, Ferris said, “Not without clearing the taxiway of those goddamn larvae. They’d eat through the tires and that would be all she wrote.”

“Then we can get a fuel truck and bring it over here. Even if the larvae ate through its tires, we could still get the fuel to the plane.”

Ferris winced. “One of those R-11 trucks carries what, maybe forty thousand pounds of fuel?” He shook his head. “I’d hate to take off with any less than a hundred thousand pounds, and more would make me a lot happier. We have no idea how far we’re going to have to fly to find a secure field where we can land.”

She scowled at him. “You’re never satisfied, are you?”

He shrugged. “What did you expect, kid? I’m a pilot.”

They turned at the sound of someone coming up the ladder. It was Boisson.

“Jesus, Angie!” Ferris reached down and helped her to the deck. Her face was streaked with soot, and half of her hair had been singed. “You look like shit. What the hell happened?”

“We had a little harvester cookout. But that’s not important. We’ve got to contact Richards. When I tried earlier, I couldn’t get through. I think maybe there was something wrong with the radio in the Humvee.”

“Well, did you try it again?”

She pointed to a fire behind the secondary hangar a quarter mile away. “See that little bonfire there? That’s the Humvee. We picked up a few too many larvae.”

“Shit.” Ferris shivered at the thought of her and the other agents covering the distance from there on foot. Even with the night vision goggles, walking around in a larvae-infested area would have given him the creeps. “Well, we’ve got power and Kurnow here says this bird is airworthy. And one thing we aren’t short on is radio gear.”

Slipping into the pilot’s seat, Ferris put on the headset and began flipping switches. Some of the countless buttons and gauges on the instrument panels came to life. “You got the frequencies handy?”

“Here.” She pulled a card from one of her uniform pockets and gave it to him.
 

“We’re out of line of sight for VHF, so let’s give HF a try.” He punched the frequency into one of the radios. “Keep your fingers crossed.” Then, keying the microphone to transmit, he said, “SEAL-2, this is Big Bird, come in, over.” He listened for a response.

Nothing.

He repeated the call. Still nothing.

“Keep trying,” Boisson said. “They’ve got to…”

Ferris jumped when a female voice burst through his headphones. “Big Bird, this is SEAL-2, go ahead, over.”

“Let me talk to SEAL-2 Actual,” Ferris said, giving the thumbs-up to Boisson. Unable to help himself, he was smiling like a fool.

***

Down in the basement where Renee and Howard were still working on the computer systems, Carl was tilted back in one of the workstation chairs. He had finally banished enough of the demons that tormented his mind to let exhaustion take his body into much-needed sleep.
 

His eyelids were just drooping shut when his radio crackled to life.

“Mr. Richards!” The young Marine’s voice was filled with excitement. “We’ve got Mr. Ferris on the radio!”

His eyes snapping open, Carl keyed his mic as adrenaline surged through his body. “I’ll be right there.”
So much for getting in a few winks
, he thought. He got up and leaned down to kiss Renee on the cheek before dashing out the door.
 

As he ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, Carl hoped and prayed the pilot had some good news.
If he doesn’t
, Carl thought,
I’m going to kick his ass
.

THEY'RE COMING

“He went this way,” Vijay said, pointing out into the darkness beyond the razor wire fence.
 

Before Jack could say anything, Vijay vaulted over the wire to land nimbly on the other side. Turning to face Jack and the others of the hunting party, he smiled and said, “Come. Quickly.”

“Damn,” Lowmack whispered.
 

Jack grimaced. “Yeah.” He led Lowmack and the two Marines with him to the access point in the fence and slid through, careful not to get hung up on the razor barbs.
 

“God, I hate this stuff,” Lowmack whispered.

“Have to agree with you there.”
 

“I hope the harvesters hate it just as much, if any ever come this way,” Lowmack told him.

Jack grunted. “I’ll be happy enough if they don’t.”

Vijay stood waiting for them. “Come,” the harvester said before turning to lead them across the open area to the next building. “I cannot smell our quarry, but I can smell the cat. She came this way, and I believe he must have followed.”

“You’re not sure?” Jack asked.

Vijay shrugged. “I can tell he is near, and that he is in this general direction. It makes sense that he would follow the cat. Killing her would be a worthwhile goal.” He glanced at Jack. “It is what I would do, if our roles were reversed. Eliminating the cats would be the best first step toward safe assimilation into the group.”

The matter-of-fact way in which Vijay spoke gave Jack the chills.
 

“Ah,” Vijay said. “Look there.” He pointed to the doorway in the back of the building adjacent to the lab. “I believe they both went that way.”

Jack knelt down to examine the body that was pinned between the heavy steel door and the jamb in the wall.
 

“This has been here for a day or so,” Vijay told him. “It is not one of yours.”
 

Leading them through the door, Jack found himself in a hallway that adjoined an open stairwell. “Which way?”

Vijay stood for a moment, a look of concentration on his face.
 

He even fakes that for us
, Jack thought.
 

“I am not certain. He is not far, but the direction now is unclear, fuzzy. I suspect he must be either above or below us.” Kneeling down, he touched a finger to a dark brown spot on the floor near the steps that led down. “Ah. This is from the cat. Blood.”

“Down, then,” Jack said.
 

“I suspect so, yes.” He stood up and gestured with his hand toward the stairs. “After you.”

Jack motioned with the barrel of his shotgun. “No, after
you
, if you don’t mind.”

Vijay clucked. “Where is your sense of trust, Jack? After all we’ve been through.” With a shrug, he headed down the steps, with Jack and the others behind him.

“Look there, sir,” Lowmack said after they’d reached the bottom.

Jack saw a rectangular opening in the basement wall a dozen yards away that led into a concrete-lined tunnel. “Vijay,” he said, “what do you think?”

“Yes,” Vijay said, rocking his head side to side, “I believe he is in that direction. Not far ahead, but farther than he was earlier.”

“Then let’s get him.” Jack moved forward toward the tunnel, the muzzle of his AA-12 shotgun leading the way.

“The only problem with this,” Lowmack said quietly behind him, “is that if Vijay can sense our hitchhiker, the reverse is true. The hitchhiker will know someone’s after him.”

“I know. That’s a risk we have to take. But there are four of us and one of him, so I’m hoping the odds will be better than even.”

Leaning closer, hoping that Vijay couldn’t hear, Lowmack whispered, “Are you sure it’s just one we’re up against and not two?”

“No, I’m not. But if Vijay so much as twitches the wrong way, blast his ass. Now come on, let’s do this.”

He and Lowmack turned into the tunnel, weapons raised. It was seven feet high and about four feet wide, with pipes and conduits along the walls and ceiling.

“He’s moving farther away,” Vijay whispered. “I think he is heading in the direction of the lab building.”

“Great,” Jack hissed as he began to move down the tunnel, as quickly and quietly as he could.
 

They passed alcoves at periodic intervals that sheltered electrical boxes and communications equipment. They searched them all in hopes of finding Koshka, but every time they came upon one of the dark, damp recesses, all Jack could think of was Sheldon Crane’s mutilated body.

He and Lowmack were just about to round a corner in the tunnel when Jack heard something metallic bounce along the floor near his feet.

“
Grenade!
” Lowmack shouted as he shoved Jack backward down the tunnel, right into Vijay.
 

An automatic weapon opened up at close range, deafeningly loud in the confines of the tunnel, and Lowmack’s body danced as 5.56mm slugs tore through him, his body caught in freeze frame motion by the muzzle blasts.

Jack rolled to the floor just before the grenade went off, the blast driving the air from his lungs as white hot shrapnel ricocheted off the concrete around him. Several fragments ripped into his legs and back. He screamed.