by N. W. Harris
The Last Orphans, Book II
By N.W. Harris
THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Harvest
Copyright ©2015 Neil Harris
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by: Christian Bentulan
Typography by: Courtney Nuckels
Editing by: Cynthia Shepp
For Amanda, Emily, and Logan
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Six thousand years ago, on the fertile plains between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, the first civilization erupted from nothing. Until this time, humans led a hunter-gatherer existence. Primitive people of the Stone Age who’d done little more than etch images of their prey on the walls of the caves where they dwelt suddenly created massive cities and settled into an organized, agrarian lifestyle. In an impossibly short period of time, they created government, religion, medicine, mathematics, writing—and began keeping records, creating literature, and studying the stars.
How?
Why?
In Mesopotamia and elsewhere, these cavemen-turned-intellects built massive pyramid-shaped structures to honor their gods, crediting these beings from the stars for creating them and teaching them how to evolve beyond their primal existence. Sumerian writings make it clear the Anunnaki came from the sky. They enslaved humans, but also forced their evolution and advancement.
Today, many people still believe the Anunnaki created humans by adding their DNA to that of the Neanderthals to make the perfect slave. They use this theory to explain the abrupt evolution of Homo sapiens and the unlikely extinction of the hardy Neanderthals.
Archeologists have discovered similar stories from other ancient civilizations—the Hopi, the Mayans, the Aztecs, and the Egyptians. Creatures from the heavens are described in many religions, as is a great flood that destroyed most of humanity. For believers in the ancient alien theory, another disturbing similarity can be found in the prophetic writings of ancient and modern religions. They speak of the end of days.
They say humans will bow to these creatures from the heavens once again.
The gods will return.
Shane’s legs didn’t react to his command. Shock permeated his entire body.
“Easy there,” the attractive brunette woman said, extending her hand.
“I’m fine,” he whispered.
He cleared his throat and straightened his six-foot frame in front of her. Pain radiating from the gashes left by Steve’s knife muted the excitement and relief of being rescued.
“Why didn’t y’all come earlier?” he asked, trying not to wince.
“We had to take shelter, or we would have been killed like the rest,” she replied, her voice calm and reassuring.
He wanted to collapse back onto the couch, to surrender all responsibility for himself and everyone else to this woman.
Some adults were alive!
They’d come to take the burden of watching out for all these people from him. For an instant, he felt like a kid again and almost wanted to break down, to tell her how the insects and animals had taken his and his friends’ families, and how they’d been forced to fight other teenagers. How they had to kill. She would ease the caustic remorse, would say there was nothing else he could’ve done, and everything was going to be all right. They could take care of him and the others—feed them, shelter them, and patch up their wounds. There’d be no reason to worry anymore, and he wouldn’t have to be in charge. He could focus his attention on Kelly, on rekindling that sparkle of joy that used to illuminate her eyes.
Taking a shallow breath, he checked the upheaval of emotion. Self-contempt followed in its wake. There was something suspicious about her showing up out of the blue like this. Why was he willing to trust this stranger—just because she was older?
After surviving the worst hell imaginable and keeping so many kids alive since the world essentially came to an end, Shane refused to be duped by the smooth-talking government type. His foot brushed the stalk of the M-16 protruding from under the couch. He glanced at it, noticing a dime-sized spot of blood seeping through the gauze covering the left side of his chest and shoulder. His gaze returned to the woman. He crossed his arms and ignored the pain, not allowing the injuries to make him look weak.
Her smile promised she had no ill intention, and her expression of concern seemed genuine, urging the scared little kid inside Shane to the surface. He gritted his teeth and kept his expression firm.
“You can bring the gun if you want, but we do have to get going.” Her brow furrowed with solemnity. “There are a lot of kids to rescue and too few of us left to do it. Many of them are too young to care for themselves—infants and toddlers abandoned in their homes.”
Shane studied her honey-brown eyes. She could’ve been trained to lie for all he knew, but his instincts told him she had good intentions. What did she have to gain by taking them in anyway?
An irregular thumping of footsteps carried through the quiet house.
“Did you see the helicopters out…?” Tracy limped through a door on the left. The pistol in her hand started to rise, its barrel coming to bear on the stranger.
“It’s okay, Tracy,” Shane said, not taking his steely gaze off the woman. “We’re going with them.”
The gun stopped. Tracy studied the woman, and her face twitched like she too experienced conflicted feelings about seeing an adult alive. Before the limbic manipulator killed her family, she had been bent on following in her stepdad’s footsteps and joining the military. He’d seen the pain in her eyes after they’d heard the message from Dr. Gunderson, telling them the government was responsible for all of those deaths. Those same emotions showed in her face now, along with a hint of relief that Shane expected only her closest friends could pick up on. Funny how much he’d learned about her in such a short time. She shifted her gaze, fixing questioning eyes on him.
Last night’s shower had done her wonders. He’d forgotten what she looked like when her face wasn’t covered with dirt and blood. She must’ve found some clippers in the house too; her crew cut was freshly trimmed. Still, her eyes were bloodshot and had purple bags beneath them.
He r
emembered waking up during the night to go to the bathroom. When he’d walked down the hall, he heard a lot of the kids crying. Shane was still a little numb. He hadn’t come to terms with all the deaths, but he wasn’t immune to the dark cloud of grief hanging heavy over the home.
Tracy leaned over slightly, the gunshot to her leg and stab wound on her back obviously causing her discomfort. He remembered pointing his M-16 at her in the underground battery compartment just before they shut down the limbic manipulator weapon, how he was so certain killing her was the right thing to do in that moment. It wasn’t his fault—the weapon had scrambled his brain. But that fact didn’t ease the guilt.
Jules stepped through the door behind Tracy, a shotgun held ready and the same fresh crew cut replacing her brown mullet. She was a couple of inches taller and leaner, able to eye the woman over the top of Tracy’s head, and Tracy was almost as tall as Shane. He hadn’t talked to Jules much in the short time they’d been acquainted, but he knew she was as tough as Tracy. Jules fought like a cornered mountain lion against Shamus and his gang of thugs in Atlanta. Her eyes had no redness in them. Maybe she was numb too. Her eyebrows rose upon seeing the woman, but her expression remained stoic.
Tracy’s eyes narrowed, and she lowered the pistol. This blonde, fair-skinned JROTC commander was a badass for sure. Shane was glad they were on his team, especially now in his weakened condition. If he gave the order, these girls would rip the woman to shreds in an instant.
“Get everyone up and outside,” he said, and then made a move toward the door.
The woman smiled at the girls and turned around, leading the way onto the porch. Tracy’s and Jules’ eyes followed her, a look of relief on their faces when they turned to execute Shane’s order. They might be free of the burden of responsibility for everyone’s protection soon, but Shane was determined to make sure they were truly safe before he’d relax.
Turning her back on him showed an awful lot of trust—he wouldn’t afford the woman the same leap of faith until he knew more. So many of the kids he and his friends encountered over the last two days would stick a knife in her without a second thought. What made her think he wouldn’t?
Six dark green military helicopters waited in the field a hundred yards away, their rotors lazily spinning to a stop. A woman wearing the exact same black pantsuit and a man wearing matching garb stood by the open door at the side of each aircraft. They wore stern expressions, not smiling and compassionate like the woman. He was immediately struck by how similar they all looked, at least from a distance.
His escort stopped and turned to Shane, her hand extending.
“I’m Lilith, by the way. But my friends call me Lily. What’s your name?”
Lilith was unique, but it seemed too simple a title for her. He expected her to introduce herself as Agent So-and-so, or at least Ms. Someone Important. Irradiated by the soft morning light, her tanned skin was unblemished—not a single freckle marked her face. Her features were perfect—high cheekbones, long, curved eyelashes, plump, red lips, and yet she didn’t appear to have on any makeup. She was too… too symmetrical or something. Shane had trouble putting his finger on it. Her smile almost seemed to glow, chiseling away his doubts about her sincerity.
But he still had trouble coming to terms with the idea that these adults actually came to rescue them. Remembering his manners, he started to reach out and take her hand. Pain flashed through his shoulder, the laceration stretched by movement.
“Sorry,” the woman said, a frown expressing her empathy. She extended her other hand.
He took it with his good side, wondering if she’d prompted him to shake with his injured arm just to remind him how vulnerable he was.
“Shane.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Shane.”
“Same,” he said automatically, hoping it would indeed be a pleasure, that her intentions weren’t malicious.
Her palm was dry and cool, reaffirming her honesty. Cold hands, warm heart—at least, that was what Granny used to say. He wished she were here now. She could read a person’s character from miles away.
“Where are you taking us?” He didn’t let go of her hand, fighting the desire to give up and trust her. With his eyes, he conveyed he wouldn’t be pushed around, wouldn’t allow her to bring his people to harm.
“To a hidden base north of here.”
Lily didn’t pull way, seeming content to endure his interrogation. She kept her eyes locked onto his, inviting him to search them for any sign of deceitfulness.
“And then what?”
“Then we can try to stop the people who killed your parents, before they kill anyone else.”
Forcing himself to remain on guard, he embraced skepticism. Every word coming from her mouth could be a lie. He tried to nurture the idea that she might be weaving an elaborate snare.
“I thought the government was responsible for killing our parents,” he replied, trying to sound the way Principal Collins had last year. She’d found out it was the footballers who’d turned her car sideways in its parking space—Steve and Aaron’s brilliant idea—and was looking for necks to stretch.
The sleep had done Shane good, but seeing his aunt and father killed, seeing the rest of the adults slaughtered, fighting off the criminals at the gym, and then battling his way downtown, only to have the death match of the century with Steve, weighed heavily on him. The exhaustion of forty-eight hours of the worst experiences imaginable made his body and mind seem filled with lead, though the pain of his injuries gave him a degree of clarity. Hoping he didn’t look half as bad as he felt, he eyed her like he’d eye a defensive tackle that wanted to take his head off during a game—warning he was more than she could handle.
“It wasn’t all their fault,” she said, not appearing intimidated. “We’ll explain more once we get you to safety and have your wounds treated.”
Lily’s focus shifted to the old, plantation-style mansion behind him. He followed her gaze, not letting go of her hand although it was becoming awkward.
Tracy, Kelly, Steve, and Laura stepped out of the house, a mob of younger kids in tow. All eyes darted between Shane, Lily, and the choppers. Their faces were slack with shock, like they were having trouble comprehending that some adults were actually here. Several of the girls who’d been assaulted in the gym and most of the younger children’s chins wrinkled, and tears began to flow.
Once in the yard, James and Sara, the two little kids he rescued behind the grocery store in Leeville, broke away from the group and ran toward Shane and Lily. Nat and several other children followed. Kelly attempted to grab her sister. After missing, she glanced at Shane with a desperate look on her face. There was nothing he could do. The children bypassed Shane and gathered around Lily, pressing between them such that it forced him to relinquish her hand. They hugged her and wept, looking up at her with relief in their wet eyes.
“It’s okay, children,” Lily said with a nurturing tone. “It’s all over now.”
Emotion and concern swelled in him. He was the one who’d kept them safe while these adults hid from the weapon’s effect. He and his friends had risked their lives, and Matt and Aaron had given theirs, to keep these kids alive. This woman showed up, and they acted like their parents had returned. He glanced back at his friends, trying to decide if he should have them step forward and separate the children from Lily. He hadn’t determined it was safe to trust her yet. Most of the younger kids still stood behind Kelly and the others with conflicted expressions on their little faces.
A glance at his friends told him he had to place his faith in this woman. They were in desperate need of medical care. Steve looked bad, his face swollen from the brawl with Shane. He imagined he must look about as good. Although Tracy’s hidden injuries probably posed a greater risk of infection, Laura looked the worst. Her left eye had a makeshift patch over it, and gauze was wrapped around her head to cover scratches caused by the crows.
Maurice and what was left of his gang, forty or so teenage
rs and only a few youngsters, had spilled out after the original group from Leeville. The city kids appeared more skeptical than those from his hometown. They spread out across the front yard, most of the older kids clinging to their guns. Their eyes shifted nervously from the helicopter and the black-suited adults to Shane. When they looked at him, they seemed to beg for him to tell them it was okay to surrender, that these adults were indeed the good guys. Even in the presence of these authoritative people, his friends and the other kids looked to him as their leader. Before, he had resented his role. Now, however reluctant, he’d come to accept it and was determined to keep them safe.
The peaceful and calm morning fueled the little flame of hope their rescuers inspired in him. The sky took on a light yellow color, the sun just peeking over the trees and chasing away the cool night air. When the ominous, green clouds had dominated the heavens over the last couple of days, he feared he’d never see a normal sunrise again. Birds sang a welcome to the new day, innocent and beautiful. Those feathered musicians were ripping the eyeballs out of adults not so many hours ago. A cow mooed from the field where the now-silent helicopters waited, and he wondered if its hoofs were stained with the farmer’s blood.
From the other side of the house, Shane heard a loudspeaker calling for kids to come out of their hiding places. He glanced at the road and saw two green military buses roll slowly by. Suddenly, his army of teenagers seemed a lot smaller.
“They’re with us,” Lilly explained, her smile exuding compassion. “Here to help.”
He gave her one more drilling inspection over the heads of the kids that still surrounded her. Nat and James clung to her hands and looked happier than they had since he’d rescued them, like somehow this woman could reunite them with their parents. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he worried he might collapse if he stood much longer. He maintained a stiff posture in spite of it and took a deep breath, trying to stay strong as he turned to address his people.
