The Harvest (29 page)

“It’s a grenade launcher,” Tracy said,
sticking an elbow out to prevent him from setting the shotgun down.
“And it’s mine.”

She squeezed between Steve and the crate,
taking advantage of both his hands being full. After grabbing the
gun, which had an oversized barrel to fire its thick projectiles,
she scooped up a chain of the short, fat, bullet-shaped
grenades.

“Each of you should take a vest. Be
careful—the pockets have hand-thrown grenades in them,” Jones
said.

Talking in his drill-sergeant voice, he
reviewed nuances about each of the weapons; what to do if they
misfired or jammed, the delay time on the grenades, and their
effective kill range. His sweeping gazes studied the teens as he
spoke, perhaps assessing if they were ready. Otherwise, the lecture
seemed like a waste of time. Shane already knew everything about
the weapons from the neural upload.

He was the last to pick out a gun, and he
wasn’t the least bit enthusiastic about having one in his hands
again. His experience with the M-16s in Atlanta made him go for the
AK. He’d seen the Russian-made weapons in the movies, but never in
real life. The guns were old, or at least made to look old—their
barrels spotted with rust and the wooden parts missing most of the
original varnish—he supposed so that they’d blend better on the
streets of Cairo.

“Never mind the patina—she’s the finest
weapon ever made,” Petrov announced, petting the stalk of his AK
affectionately. “You’ll find she is reliable no matter what the
conditions. Russian ingenuity at its finest.”

“Thank you, Mikhail Kalashnikov,” Anfisa
added, kissing her AK.

“So hot.” Steve watched her with lascivious
eyes.

Shane could only offer a polite smile. He
couldn’t wait until all this was over. He’d never touch another gun
again if he had his choice. He put on a black mesh vest with four
pockets running on either side of the zipper, each one holding a
grenade. Then he took the backpack Jones gave him, filling it with
extra clips for his gun and the dried food Jones handed out.
Touching the bullets caused bile to rise in his throat, the images
of the kids he’d killed resurfacing in his mind.

“Your teams will take different routes
through the city,” Jones instructed, handing out maps. “It may draw
too much attention if you travel together.”

The doctor gave them paper cups filled with
vitamins that she said would give them energy and keep them alert
even if they couldn’t eat or sleep for several days. Having grown
accustomed to swallowing the massive tablets, the kids ingested her
prescription without hesitation.

“Once the Anunnaki vessels land, it’s
critical you act like the other kids around you. It must appear you
are under the control of the enemy. And do not attempt to take your
weapons into the ship. Cast them aside when you see the others do
it. You need to attract the least attention to yourselves as
possible.”

“Where will you be?” Tracy asked.

“We’ll be hiding nearby. Once you destroy the
reactors, we will fly in helicopters with reinforcements.”

“If we destroy the reactors,” Laura
murmured.

“No time for that,” Tracy scolded.

Laura glared at her. Tracy didn’t acknowledge
it, focused on strapping on her new toys. They’d been getting along
better since their fight in the barracks, but there was still
constant tension between them.

The last thing Shane donned was a green belt
with two canteens hanging from it. He felt weighed down by all the
gear, but he didn’t dare leave any behind. Jones opened the rear
hatch, a ramp that was wide enough to drive a car on. Gunshots
sounded in the distance, and Shane’s hand reflexively went to the
strap of his rifle.

“The teams will leave at fifteen-minute
intervals. Move quickly and quietly through the city. Get to the
pyramids as fast as possible. The first team out is the
Australians,” Jones said. “Liam and Jake, you’re going with the
Americans. Jules and Kelly, you’ll be on the Australian team.”

“Wait,” Shane stammered. “What? I don’t think
so!”

“Your affections could affect your judgment
at a critical moment,” Jones replied curtly. “If your attention is
on protecting her, it cannot be on the mission.”

“We’ve done some pretty crazy shit together
already,” Shane replied, trying to keep his anger in check. “We
shut down that stupid weapon in Atlanta, didn’t we?”

“I’m not disputing your abilities.” Jones
sighed, a rare glimmer of empathy in his eyes. “Shane, you were
born a leader. Think about it. Step out of yourself for a minute.
Shouldn’t you be separated from Kelly for this mission?”

He searched for an argument to counter,
something to prove that Kelly and he should stay together. Deep
down inside, Shane knew Jones’ logic was sound, and he would do the
same if their roles were reversed.

“We’re different,” he said, refusing to give
in. “We work too well together to be separated.”

He looked at Tracy, expecting she’d join in
the argument to prevent having Jules taken from her. But the tough
girl with a blond crew cut, who he’d grown to respect more than
just about anyone, wore a pained expression showing she reluctantly
agreed with Jones. Jules looked offended, but she didn’t turn away
when Tracy walked over to her and talked in a hushed voice.

“He’s right, Shane,” Kelly said, barely
speaking louder than a whisper. “I know you’ll do whatever it takes
to protect me. We have to be on different teams if this is going to
work.”

“No, Kelly.” Sweat beaded on Shane’s
forehead. He couldn’t stand the idea of her being in danger when he
wasn’t near to help.

“You know he’s right,” she repeated. “This
mission has to succeed. I don’t want to be a distraction for you,
and you can’t be one for me. We have to do it for Nat and everyone
else.”

Shane looked into her sapphire eyes, tears
glistening in them. There was no way he’d change her mind, and he
knew his reasons for wanting to were selfish. His vest and weapon
suddenly seemed a hundred pounds heavier. He pulled her into his
arms and kissed her, struggling to keep the tears out of his
eyes.

“Promise me you’ll look after Nat and the
other kids if I don’t make it,” she whispered.

“You’ll make it,” he replied, his voice
cracking.

“Just promise me, damn it.”

“Okay,” he said, defeated. “I promise.”

She smiled, melting his heart. He’d die a
thousand torturous ways to keep her safe. His brain raced,
desperate to find a reason for her to stay on the plane, some way
of stopping her from going on the mission. She didn’t give him
another chance to object, turning away and stepping toward the back
of the airplane with Jules and the Australians. He caught one last
glimpse of her face just after she walked onto the runway. The kind
smile she’d shown him was gone, replaced by the steely expression
of a warrior—cold, hard, and ready to kill if that was what it took
to get the job done.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Liam said quietly, putting a comforting hand
on Shane’s shoulder. “My boys will keep them safe.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Shane muttered.

Tracy stood on the ramp next to him, a glum
expression on her face. Her lip twitched like she struggled to keep
from calling out to Jules. Shane’s eyes locked onto Kelly, his sour
guts twisting into knots. The hot desert wind shifted and blew the
smell of rotting flesh and fire into his face. He blinked his eyes
and stopped breathing through his nose. The Australians—Jules and
Kelly with them—slipped between the hangars and out of sight. Shane
looked at Tracy.

“We’ll see them soon,” he said, his voice
weak.

She returned his gaze, her eyes damp. He
didn’t imagine Tracy had ever really cried, and to him, the wetness
in her eyes now was essentially her version of bawling. He was
beginning to think the foul odor and smoke probably caused her eyes
to water when Tracy stepped closer to him. She looked up at his
face, and then she hugged him. He was shocked, not having expected
her to ever show such sensitivity. For a second, he just stood
there, her arms around his torso. Then he remembered his manners
and hugged her back.

When she released him and stepped away, she
looked down and straightened her gear. Then she flashed an
embarrassed glance at him before studying her watch and clearing
her throat.

“Looks like we have ten minutes,” she
observed gruffly. “Hurry up and wait.”

“Yeah,” Shane replied. He wanted to give her
a playful punch in the shoulder, something to show he was cool with
her display of emotion. Expecting it might make her more
uncomfortable, he held back.

“Let’s have a look at our map,” Steve
suggested, making an obvious effort to distract them.

Needing the diversion, Shane unfolded the map
on a table that extended off the curved fuselage of the aircraft.
Maurice, Laura, Steve, Tracy, Liam, and Jake crowded around.
Steve’s strategy worked, at least for Tracy. She immersed herself
in analyzing their route, pointing out areas where she thought
they’d need to be extra vigilant. Pretending to look at the map, he
glanced around at their faces. They each had their strengths and
weaknesses, Shane included. Were they good enough to win this
deadly game? At this point, it didn’t matter. This was his team,
and he had to believe in them now as much as they’d believed in him
all along.

Each squad was assigned a different way
through the city. His attention was drawn to the blue line, the
path Kelly and the Aussie team were on. Biting the inside of his
cheek, he focused on the red line that belonged to his squad. He
hated to admit it, but she
was
a distraction. Apparently,
she was not only the greatest source of his strength, but she was
also his weakness. Even now, he was having trouble keeping his
attention on the task at hand.

“Okay, team one, you’re up next,” Jones
growled. He sat near the side door just forward of the wings,
manning the mini-gun that swung off the fuselage and through the
opening.

Dr. Blain sat opposite him, the same weapon
pointed out of the door on her side. She looked more nervous than
Jones, who was focused and calm like this was business as usual.
Shane reckoned she’d never been in combat. Glancing toward him, her
lips rose into a smile. The maternal glimmer that made him
inexplicably uncomfortable ignited in her eyes. He smiled back and
then turned away.

“Let’s do this,” Steve said, sounding ready
to charge out of the locker room and onto the football field.

They gathered their stuff, and Shane was the
first at the door. Far off in the distance, he could hear the pop
of a gun. Otherwise, all was quiet.

He glanced back at the captain, wanting to
say thanks. As gruff and unfriendly as Jones always tried to act,
Shane knew he cared. Although he didn’t like or trust him during
those first days of training, he’d come to respect the rebel like
he respected Coach Rice, the man he wished his own father had been
more like. He looked at Tracy and Maurice, hoping they’d say
something meaningful. Their faces expressed the same sentiments,
but all kept quiet.

“Good luck,” Jones said, nodding at them in a
way that showed he acknowledged their gratefulness. There was a
hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Shane replied, wondering how many
times the captain had trained soldiers and then sent them off to
die.

“I’m shooting that thing when we get back,”
Tracy said, pointing at the mini-gun.

Jones chuckled, a coarse sound he seemed
unaccustomed to making. He gazed through the sights of his weapon
out of the open door.

“Stick to the mission, and you’ll do fine.”
Looking at them again, he touched his head. “Your uploads gave you
everything you need to know to succeed. But you were born with what
will defeat the enemy,” he added, pointing at his heart.

After nodding to the captain one last time,
Shane swung the AK off his shoulder. He held it ready and walked
down the ramp off the air-conditioned plane. The dry heat of Egypt
stung his nose and eyes. It felt like he’d stuck his face in an
oven. He glanced left and right, searching for threats.

At the bottom of the steps, he waited for the
rest of his team. Tracy pulled her weapon off her shoulder and held
it ready, and the rest did the same.

“Let’s go,” Shane said, walking briskly
across the tarmac.

“Everyone, keep your eyes peeled,” Tracy
added. “We don’t want to be surprised.”

“Oh,” Laura said abhorrently, retreating
behind him. “That is so gross.”

A corpse lay ahead, an airport worker in a
blue jumpsuit. There was no way to know what killed him. The sun
and heat had sucked all the water out of his body. The skin of his
face was sunk in and cracked, tightening over the bone underneath.
His shrunken eyeballs looked too small in their sockets, and the
concrete around him was stained where his rotting fluids had seeped
out and baked in the hot sun. Black and green flies buzzed around
the partially mummified adult.