The Harvest

by K. Makansi

  “You never said how that went,” Eli says, turning to Remy.

  “We can tell you over dinner.” I pick up a bowl of poached apricots and begin to serve. “Saara, Soren, and Osprey need to eat after hiking all the way out here.”

  “And I need to take my boots off,” Saara says, already unlacing. “I think I have blisters the size of dinner plates.”

  16 - REMY

  Spring 89, Sector Annum 106, 22h21

  Gregorian Calendar: June 16

  A hush falls over us as we as stretch out around the fire crackling in my grandfather’s old stone fireplace. It’s closing in on eleven, but my bones feel like it must be two or three in the morning. For the past ten days, we’ve been loading and unloading, helping various Resistance teams move food, seeds, and MealPaks. Unlike teamsters working for the Sector, we don’t have the benefit of heavy-duty loading drones. We do have the benefit of the newfangled scrambles Firestone put together. Besides the ones Eli and Miah used to create a perimeter around the house, we’ve got another dozen or so we set up around every loading and unloading site.

  “Another bottle?” Jeremiah pops the stopper on yet another one of my grandfather’s older vintages and holds it aloft.

  “If anyone said no, would that have stopped you?” Soren asks, his voice loaded with a heavy dose of Soren Skaarsgard sarcasm. Stretched out on the floor, he holds out two glasses while Osprey, curled up on the couch behind him, runs a fingertip up and down the back of his ear lobe, making me want to scratch my own.

  Since we arrived at my grandfather’s, we’ve had several visitors, including Chariya, one of the Outsiders we met a few months ago, but mostly, we’ve been doing backbreaking labor, strategizing with Zeke’s team, and arguing about our next moves with the Director. We’ve also been brainstorming about what Meera’s final message, follow the acorns to the tree, might mean. Chariya had some ideas, but she left shortly after she arrived, promising to return as soon as possible. What “soon” means to an Outsider, I have no idea. Osprey says, with Chariya, it could mean tomorrow or next year.

  But tonight we got the best surprise of all: Zeke arrived with Bear in tow, grown at least a few centimeters since the last time I saw him. He’s on his way from Farm 5 to 3, colloquially called Mill Town and Cloverfield. When the Director told him Eli and Miah were setting up a waystation outside Okaria, and that Soren and I had made it here safely, Bear decided to take a detour and visit us between stops.

  “It’s been wild out there, ya know?” Bear says, adding another log to the fire, settling back, and watching as the flames lick at the wood. “Lotta people coming to our side. Stepping up, telling others, wanting something different. Something more. Many still don’t understand, but our numbers are growing. And we’re getting ready to show what we’re made of.”

  So much has happened since Vale and I went to Okaria nearly three months ago. While Vale was isolated with his parents and I was connecting with Meera, Snake, and the other Outsiders in the capital, Bear has led the charge to rally Farm workers to the cause of the Resistance. He says many of the workers have begun to see how their lives have been manipulated. How they’ve been used. The devastation at Round Barn was the spark that lit the torch, and now the darkness has been illuminated, as he put it so eloquently. As he talks, I feel like a proud parent, my heart expanding with every word. I suppose I still feel responsible for Bear—and for Sam.

  “It’s really Gabriel,” Bear says, with a nod my direction. “Without his inspiration, we never would have been able to recruit so many so quickly.”

  I look across the room, locking eyes with Eli. For a moment, the deep ache of memory, of missing what used to be—the happy family with the quiet poet, the passionate doctor, the brilliant older sister, and me, the eager, inquisitive artist—threatens to breach the wall I’ve built up around that part of my life. I blink back tears.

  Vale squeezes my hand. “What’s Gabriel’s role in all this?”

  “He helps me work out what to say.” Bear holds up his glass to the firelight as if seeking wisdom within the shifting, swirling liquid. “But mostly, he tells stories about long ago heroes who stood up for their rights without hurting anyone. Dr. Rhinehouse says us workers have been programmed to shy away from violence. That’s why some of us just kinda turn off. Like a light goes out inside. Since folks don’t want to hurt anyone, they turn away from what frightens them or makes them angry. So Gabriel tells stories about other folks just like us. To make us brave. Folks like Thoreau, Gandhi, King, Havel. Folks I never even heard of in the whole of my life ’fore now.”

  I’m not surprised Bear and the other Farm workers are inspired by my father’s stories. “Stories have power,” my dad used to say when we’d talk about our passions: me, drawing and painting; him, stories and poetry. “Artists tell stories with pictures so those who are deaf to the truth can see it instead. Poets tell stories with words so those who are blind to the truth can hear it instead.”

  “But most of all,” Bear says, “Gabriel listens to the workers’ own stories. Prob’ly the first time a livin’ soul’s ever bothered. Now we got lots of folks willing to stand up for themselves, workers from every Farm in every quadrant, all willing to tell their stories, say what’s on their minds. And town folk, too. Working with Zeke, we got real, educated people ready to stand beside Farm folk. And there’s a whole lot of them. We’re gettin’ well mobilized.”

  “What are you mobilizing for?” Saara asks.

  “We can’t fight back without guns and airships like the Sector has, like Evander has. And we don’t want anyone else to die, ya know? So we’ve got to go at it different way. Right now, we’re keeping things quiet, acting like nothing’s changing. But soon, things’ll be different.”

  “How?” I ask, leaning forward.

  Bear looks at the floor.

  “Well, I’ve been workin’ on this idea …”

  “What idea?” Soren presses. Ever since Soren and I met Bear on that boat two seasons ago, we’ve tried to welcome him into our fold as much as possible.

  “None of us want a repeat of Round Barn. But what if we take that same concept, the idea of taking a stand, rising up peacefully, and demand that all of us be treated with respect. That each one of us be treated like human beings. And what if we did this in the capital? Right in front of Assembly Hall, where everyone can see us. Evander can’t bring his fireships down on us then. So my idea is to organize a march with workers from every Farm and every factory town coming in to the city of their own free will. Thousands of people standing in front of our capital demanding our liberty. What happens then?”

  No one says a word. I lean back and close my eyes, listening to the pop and crackle as a piece of damp wood catches. I can see the people, shoulder to shoulder, silent, facing Assembly Hall. Is it even possible? How could Corine or Evander or Aulion take violent action against a peaceful demonstration in the middle of the city? I turn to Vale.

  “What do you think?”

  “How many can you mobilize?” he asks.

  Bear glances at Miah and then says, “We estimate we’ve got almost three thousand volunteers so far.”

  “Three thousand?” Saara nearly chokes on her wine.

  “And we’re aiming for more.”

  Vale lets out a long low whistle. I can almost hear his mind working as he pushes himself up from his relaxed slouch. The enormity of Bear’s plan is overwhelming. All this time I’ve been hiding out in Okaria, Bear has been spreading his message—and now the message has gone viral. If he’s got three thousand people who have already volunteered to march to the capital city at his command, how many more will rally to our cause when the march begins?

  “Do you have a date picked out?” Vale asks. “What are you thinking in terms of logistics? Communications? Coordinating the movement of so many people so that everyone arrives at the same time?”

  “Workin’ on all that,” Bear says. “It’s a big project, ya know? We’re shooting for right after t
he solstice, maybe the twenty-third or twenty-fourth. Miah and Eli been workin’ with Zeke and some of Osprey’s friends to monitor Sector freight lines. There’s some maglev trains that run between the Farm depots and Okaria once a day. Same thing with the factory towns. Moving stuff back and forth ’tween the countryside and the capital. We’re hopin’ to get a lot of folks on board those trains.”

  Vale nods, considering. Of all the people here, he probably has the most comprehensive knowledge of the Sector’s large-scale infrastructure. “You’ve got the schedules?”

  “The routes are controlled remotely by computer,” Zeke says, “but there are onboard operators with override capabilities in case of delays or mechanical problems. I’ve got an old friend who helps set the schedules.”

  “So you can get people loaded without the central system knowing,” Vale says, following Zeke’s train of thought.

  “And,” Eli says with a dangerous look, “we’ll take care of the onsite operators if we have to.”

  “Replace them with our own people,” Miah says.

  “Still,” Zeke says, “it’s easier said than done. It used to be the train operators rode unaccompanied, no guards. Since Round Barn, no train leaves a station without four soldiers onboard.”

  “There’s been growing malcontent on the Farms over the last few years.” Vale leans back in his chair, stretching. “But nothing on the scale of Round Barn. I’m not surprised they increased security.”

  “Are you worried about infiltration?” I ask. “Someone overhearing your plans and tipping off the Enforcers? Or loyalists in the Factory towns? What about Evander?”

  “’Course we’re worried about that,” Bear says. “But ain’t nothing we can do but tell everyone to be hush-hush and go right on about our work.”

  “What happens if you’re discovered?” Saara asks.

  It’s Bear’s turn to shrug. He looks at Zeke and Miah, neither of whom has an answer. Finally, he says, “I’d best not be caught, I guess. All I know is I can’t stop what I’m doing. Not now. There’s no turning back. We’ve just got to hope everyone will see the truth, and support us rather than fight against us.”

  From the very first day I met him, Bear was taking on responsibilities beyond what should have been asked of him.

  The smoke trails lazily up the chimney and a log crumbles in the fire. The chilly night air blowing in from broken windows smells like promise. But with every promise made, there is the chance of a promise broken.

  Finally Saara says, “What do you hear about this bug that’s been going around?”

  By the third day after we’d all arrived at my grandfather’s, we got word that a full-fledged health crisis was taking place on the outskirts of the Sector and was quickly spreading into the city. The medevac trucks Vale and I saw zooming around Okaria were no coincidence, and it became clear that Meera was called into work the morning of the vigil because dozens of people were falling ill.

  Saara went into the city a few days ago and caught the tail end of one of the OAC’s broadcasts, in which Corine announced that the OAC was looking into the illness, trying to find a cause and a cure.

  “They’re claiming they don’t know what it is,” Saara had said upon her return. “I don’t believe it for an instant.”

  “What’s the vector?” Soren asked.

  “They’re not sure yet, but they don’t think it’s contagious.”

  “What do you think?” Vale asked Saara. “You’re the nurse.”

  “It’s too soon to tell. But I don’t think it’s natural.”

  “You think the Sector is spreading it?”

  Saara didn’t respond.

  Now, Bear shifts uncomfortably in his seat, frowning. “Rhinehouse doesn’t know what to make of it,” he says. “First folks start complaining about dizziness and nausea, followed by seizures caused by swelling of the brain. Many of the patients end up in a coma.” He shakes his head.

  “But that’s not the worst part,” Zeke says. “Before they lapse into a coma, patients exhibit extreme paranoia, what some doctors are calling sudden-onset schizophrenia. Only a few people have died so far, though, and all deaths have been before the coma stage. One woman told her husband that people were spying on her, chasing her. She ran out of the house and disappeared. Watchmen fished her out of the river the next day. Drowned.”

  “Any statement from the chancellor?” Vale says.

  “Nothing official,” Eli pipes up. “Except that they’re dedicating all their resources to identifying the source of the outbreak and trying to identify preventative measures, ways to contain it before it spreads throughout the Sector. Zoe, back at headquarters, has been monitoring their broadcasts. We’ll know when they put out a statement.”

  “Epidemics grow, spread, kill hundreds, if not thousands of people,” Vale says. “They eventually mutate, die out, or someone finds a cure. Fifty years later, the same thing happens. It happened all the time in the Old World. The Black Death. Influenza. Polio. Small pox. Dengue. AIDS. Ebola. And many of those were just in the last two centuries before the Religious Wars, which, naturally, caused many of the viruses that had previously been contained to come surging back.”

  I smile inwardly, knowing that Vale was that kid in class always paying attention. Soaking everything in, even arcane information on ancient diseases.

  “I’m afraid if somethin’ don’t happen soon, it’s gonna make all our work for naught.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “With the hospitals fillin’ up,” Bear says, his eyes shadowed with worry, “lots of people what was on our side started thinkin’ the OAC has all the answers again. ’Fore I got here tonight, I had someone I trusted accusin’ me of poisoning him, sayin’ I was out to get him. I’m afraid it’ll take us back to the days before Linnea put out that broadcast, before Remy showed everyone what happened at Round Barn. And …” He goes quiet and shifts his eyes over to me, where he just barely meets my gaze. “… Luis has it.”

  I jerk upright, leaning forward. “What?”

  Bear looks tired, and I realize what a toll this must be taking on him. “We knew he had it when he hid from Rose. He’d had a bad fever, was burning up, and when she tried to help him, he locked himself in a bathroom and wouldn’t come out, said Rose was tryin’ to kill him. He went downhill fast. Rhinehouse is looking after him, has him in quarantine, but Rose is out of her mind with worry.” Bear turns to Vale. “Your Demeter’s in touch with Rhinehouse now, you know, and she tracked down Luis’s dietary profile. He’s been off his MealPaks since Round Barn, but Rhinehouse wanted to study his complete files. Looking for clues, maybe, as to why this illness seems to affect some, but not others. I think he’s even replicating some of the formulas and trying to feed him through his arm. I don’t understand it all, but I know it’s not good.”

  “Has any of it been working?” Saara asks, leaning forward.

  Bear shakes his head. Saara is silent, but her pursed lips tell us she still has more to say.

  “Spit it out,” Eli says finally, locking eyes with her. She sighs.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “You’re sitting with the best of ’em,” Eli retorts. “Tell us your worst fears, and we’ll see if they can hold a candle to our own.”

  “You’re only crazy if your theories aren’t true,” Osprey adds.

  Saara glances at Zeke and Miah. She’d already spent time with the two men, telling them about Rachel Sayyid’s last days, how she mumbled their names, talked about them before she’d been too weak to speak. She told us all how she watched as Rachel and the others died of a virus that was supposed to have been cured decades ago, a cover-up to disguise the true nature of the experiments the OAC was performing.

  “I think it would be awfully convenient for the OAC to engineer some virus or parasite that causes serious symptoms but doesn’t kill, and then disseminate it through MealPaks or through the water system. Tell everyone it’s an act of bioterrorism from t
hose renegades outside the Sector. Then a few weeks later, after panic sets in, voila! Suddenly the OAC’s brilliant scientists have a cure. A pill or a tonic or a vaccine to save the day, something that allows Corine to ride to the rescue and put everyone’s growing fears to rest once and for all. She’d be the savior in the face of the Resistance’s terror. The OAC would once again be seen as the answer to the Sector’s prayers.”

  Vale sucks in a breath and runs his hands over his face. His voice is hard when he speaks. “We’ve forced her hand.”

  “How? What do you mean?” Bear asks.

  “They may not know exactly what you’re doing, but they know something’s up. Our movement has pushed the OAC’s back against the wall. So Corine takes the offensive. She engineers this outbreak so she can claim it proves the Resistance and its ideas about re-cultivating Old World seeds is dangerous. Old World seeds breed Old World disease. It would be the perfect way for her to discredit everything the Resistance stands for in one fell swoop. And to hell with any real repercussions. People sick and suffering? So what? Drowning themselves? Small price to pay.”

  “Exactly,” Saara says. “They want everyone afraid. Four years ago, they kept it all hush-hush. Rachel and the other patients were top secret. But now, they want everyone afraid, because they want everyone to think that the OAC has the only solution. They want everyone crying for their MealPaks, their drugs, their Dieticians.”

  “And it would make perfect sense for her to introduce it in the outermost towns and Farms,” Osprey adds. “Easier to blame the Resistance that way.”

  “Exactly,” Saara whispers.

  Later, in bed, Vale holds my hand against his chest.

  “There’s something I never told you.” I can hear his breathing, loud in the darkness. “When I was being held at the chancellor’s, Moriana came to visit me.” My eyes go wide, but I stay silent. “She wanted to ask me what happened, why Miah and I left.”