The Harvest (22 page)

“You see,” Jones said once they were out of
the ring, his black eyebrows elevated as he looked at them. “Even
the smallest person here can defeat the largest. Steve
underestimated his opponent, just like the Anunnaki will
underestimate you. Such a mistake rarely happens twice, and I doubt
Anfisa will be able to defeat him if we pair them together
tomorrow. The lesson is—when you have a chance to attack a larger
enemy, you must make sure the attack will lead to their
destruction. If they recover and can retaliate, you will lose.”

The
fights happened without much cheering or fanfare, the group of kids
growing more united in the single purpose of defeating the Anunnaki
and less concerned with beating each other. Jones was enraged by
the lack of aggression. He made them do push-ups and crunches on
the flesh-searing asphalt, yelling at them the entire time.

“We are here to develop the warrior in each
of you. We cannot afford you going soft on each other. From now on,
you will fight until Dr. Blain says it is no longer safe to
continue,” Jones growled.

The doctor had a horrified look on her face,
and Shane guessed she was thinking of calling each fight before it
started. Jones cast a cold glance at her, and her expression
changed, revealing that she’d do what he expected of her.

Ordering them to their feet, he pitted Shane
against the ornery Russian prankster, Petrov. The boy didn’t have
the viciousness in his attacks of the day before. He slipped a
couple of cautious hits to the side of Shane’s head before he got
an angle on the boy and drove his full weight into him. The Russian
went down hard, and Shane leapt on top of him. He raised his fist,
ready to nail the rude boy in the face. Petrov twisted his head and
clenched his eyes shut.

“Finish it!” Jones yelled.

It was good enough for Shane—he’d clearly
beaten the kid. Knowing they’d all pay for his unwillingness to do
what Jones ordered wasn’t enough to make him hammer the boy when he
was already down. He got off him and offered his hand, pulling
Petrov to his feet.

“It’s nothing personal,” the Russian said,
smiling regrettably and not releasing Shane’s hand. “But I’m not
good at losing.”

The big Russian pulled Shane toward him and
punched at the same time. His fist smashed into Shane’s mouth. He
heard bone crunching, and pain exploded across his face all the way
to the back of his skull. His vision filled with white and black
swirling spots, and his legs went rubbery. He collapsed to the hot
asphalt.

Cradling his broken face in his hands, he
cursed and moaned. He tasted blood, and he couldn’t open and close
his mouth. Dr. Blain was over him in an instant. He let her push
his hands down to his sides and forced himself to stay still so she
could fix him.

The world grew hazy, but he didn’t pass out.
The aliens’ medical technology meant he’d be better than new in
less than a minute. It made the pain seem trivial and easier to
ignore. As his face healed, he cursed himself for allowing Petrov
to trick him.

“Good,” he heard Jones saying, his spirits
seeming lifted at the sight of Shane’s blood. “Attack the enemy
when their guard is down. Even if they have you on the ground,
ready to destroy you, do not accept defeat. The enemy will lie to
you. Even with their dying breath, they will do everything to
convince you that they are your friends—that they can be trusted.
Let me be the one to warn you, they have no respect for your
freedom. You are property to them, another disposable species they
plan to use to crush their enemies.”

He was mended quickly, and the doctor used a
wet towel to clean the remaining blood off his face. When she
stepped away, he saw Petrov still standing nearby. He wasn’t
smiling and laughing as Shane would’ve expected. He extended his
hand to Shane as he got up. Not willing to fall into another trap,
Shane didn’t take it. He rose to his feet cautiously, wanting to
nail the boy but knowing the fight was officially over and Jones
would make him pay hell if he did. There’d be other opportunities
to take his revenge. He wouldn’t let his compassion get in the way
next time.

“Forgive my behavior yesterday,” Petrov said
begrudgingly, casting a glance toward Anfisa and extending his hand
to shake. “We are all in this together, and I should have shown
more respect.”

“Yeah, okay,” Shane replied, conveying he
didn’t believe the boy.

He narrowed his eyes and cautiously took
Petrov’s extended hand, expecting the Russian would try to coldcock
him again. Balling his free hand into a fist, he fantasized about
returning the favor right now, of caving the punk’s face in.

Petrov looked down at his clenched hand and
then back up at him. He didn’t retract or appear to plan to try and
stop Shane if he hit him. His expression seemed to say,
Go
ahead—take a free shot at me. I deserve it
. After shaking
Shane’s hand, Petrov sighed as if he’d just finished doing
something he’d been dreading. Leaving Shane confused, he turned
away and rejoined his group. Anfisa gave a slight grin to her
comrade as he approached, appearing satisfied by the exchange.

Shane walked back over and stood next to
Kelly. It was unsportsmanlike of Petrov to hit him when he was
helping him up. But at the same time, the fight hadn’t officially
ended, and the Russian was just taking advantage of Shane’s
weakness. Such sly aggression might mean the difference between
winning and losing when it came to the fight against the Anunnaki.
As much as it hurt his ego, he knew he should learn a thing or two
from Petrov.

The sun climbed higher in the clear blue sky,
and it grew hotter by the minute on the tarmac.

“Alright people,” Jones shouted, “give me
five laps, and then you can have lunch.”

A wave of grumbles swept through the sweaty
crowd, everyone already exhausted by the morning’s exercises.

“Excuse me,” Jones growled angrily, letting
them know that the sensitive side he’d shown earlier was locked
away and Drill Sergeant Jones was back in full force. “Drop and
give me twenty push-ups first to help lift your spirits.”

“Sir, yes sir,” came the response.

Where they were all separated into their
respective groups for the morning run, now weary individuals took
off around the track as they finished their push-ups. The result
was an intermingling of the different teams.

Shane was in the middle of the mob, Kelly on
his right side. A few people ahead of them, Anfisa ran next to
Steve.

“I think there’s love in the air,” Tracy
joked. She was behind Shane and Kelly. “Who knew? You break one of
Steve’s ribs, and he’ll follow you around like a puppy.”

Shane laughed, taking a closer look at the
pair. Sure enough, he saw Steve glance over at the tall Russian
girl and smile. She returned his gaze with a flirtatious grin and
sped up. Steve took off after her.

“Oh my gosh,” Jules groaned. “It’s like a
stinking Disney movie. I’m gonna barf.”

“Come on, guys,” Kelly said, her voice thick
with emotion. “I think it’s sweet.”

Shane just hoped it wouldn’t be a
distraction, though he wasn’t one to talk. Joking around made the
laps tick off easier than before, and soon they were in the
air-conditioned cafeteria.

“How are you holding up?” he asked Rebecca.
She was replenishing napkins in stainless-steel holders near the
food line.

“I’m okay, I guess,” she replied timidly. Her
cheeks turning red, she glanced up at him and smiled. She was not
much younger than Shane was, but she made him feel like he was an
adult by the way she addressed him.

“So you guys are being treated well?”

“Yes,” she replied. “We have to work in here
a few hours a day, and then help with the children, but it’s not
bad.”

“Good.” He’d gotten used to his little squad
deferring to him as their leader, but her reverence made him feel
awkward. “How about the other girls who…?”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at the napkin
holder. “I think we’re all getting over it, slowly. Dr. Blain met
with us to talk. You’d think you’d just want to forget, but talking
with her and the others did make me feel better for some strange
reason.”

“Good,” he said again, the response feeling
wholly inadequate. “Well, if you ever need anything.”

“Thanks.”

She gave him another smile filled with
respect and admiration—a look he reckoned was reserved for fathers.
Smiling back, but feeling terribly uncomfortable, he spun away and
grabbed a tray.

Heading down the food line, he encountered
two of the other girls who were attacked in the gym serving kids
from the other side. When they put food on his plate, he noticed
they were looking at him the same way Rebecca had. She, and
probably every other kid who his team protected before the aliens
showed up, believed he was strong and smart enough to save them.
What they didn’t realize was he wasn’t all that special. He’d
gotten lucky a few times, but he didn’t think he was a hero. The
responsibility to protect them, to defeat the Anunnaki so that
these kids wouldn’t die or become slaves, was always pressing on
him. But it suddenly seemed to double in weight.

“Want to eat with the little ones?” Kelly
asked when he stepped off the end of the food line.

“Uh, sure,” Shane replied, sensing that was
the answer she expected. He wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but he
couldn’t think of a decent excuse to say no to her.

His stomach twisting into knots from his
interaction with Rebecca and the other girls, he followed her. The
kids’ table was an uproar of laughter and conversation, but when he
approached, some of them grew quiet and looked at him. He threw on
his best smile again, hoping they couldn’t sense the fist of panic
tightening its grip around him.

He looked at Kelly, and her expression showed
she could see something was wrong. He felt like a teapot on the
stove, the pressure increasing inside of him until he feared he
couldn’t contain it. He remembered trying to save his aunt, and how
miserably he’d failed. And that was just a bunch of bees. Images of
how her body looked when she died, his dad’s cockroach-eaten face,
and all the other mutilated corpses he’d seen ripped through his
mind. Then he remembered the kids he’d shot in the gym and in the
fight in Atlanta, their slack faces as their souls tore away from
their bodies. When he blinked, his tormented imagination creating a
picture of Nat, Sara, James, and all the other kids at this table,
along with Rebecca and the others, dead and swollen like the
adults. He looked at Kelly again, afraid of imagining her the same
way.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, then sat
his tray down on a table and headed for the doors of the cafeteria
at a brisk walk.

“Shane?” Kelly called after him.

He pretended not to hear her and stayed on
course. Breaking into a run when he was fifteen feet from the exit,
he burst through the doors and darted around the side of the
building. The woods were too far. Partway through the egress
between buildings, he doubled over and barfed up bile, his stomach
empty.

When the heaving stopped, he punched the
metal wall of the hangar, refreshing pain enveloping his fist.
Blinking and studying his hand to see if any bones protruded from
it, he leaned against the building and wiped his eyes.

“Shane?” Kelly’s concerned voice came from
behind him.

Her feet crunched on the gravel as she
approached, and then her hand was on his shoulder. His head
drooped, his unfocused eyes directed toward his feet. He wasn’t
proud of himself at the moment and didn’t want her to see him like
this.

“You aren’t alone, you know?” Her touch and
voice soothed him like powerful medicine. “We’re with you in
this.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m trying to be strong,
to inspire confidence in the others, but sometimes, it’s just too
damn much.”

“It is too much,” she said. “But Steve,
Jules, Maurice, and the rest are all here to help you. I’m
here.”

He let out a long, shaky sigh and raised his
head.

“I know,” he said, looking at her. “Guess I
just got overwhelmed in there.”

She pulled him into an embrace, pressing her
cheek against his.

“I’d kiss you,” she whispered, “but your
breath smells like puke.”

He chuckled and squeezed her tightly against
him. They held each other in silence, and he could feel her heart
beating against his chest. Her touch diffused the pressure that had
built in him.

“We’d better get back to lunch,” he said,
wanting her to forget the whole ordeal. Holding hands until they
got to the tarmac, they returned to the cafeteria and made their
way over to the tables where the seven teams were sitting.

“Lunch is over,” Jones yelled from the door.
“Up and out!”