by S. J. West
He snatched the knit cap off of my head, spilling out the long brown strands of hair I had hidden beneath it. I had wanted to cut my hair short once, since washing it took so much water, but Ash stopped me from doing it, saying we could afford the extra water.
“You have your mother’s hair,” he had said. “It’s the one thing she gave you that the Harvesters can’t take away.”
I had always been grateful Ash had stopped me, until now.
The Harvester ran his long, sickly pale fingers through my hair.
“It’s clean,” he said somewhat surprised. “So many of you don’t take care of your bodies properly.”
I squirmed harder to get his hand out of my hair. “Let me go!”
“Be still,” he ordered, pushing me firmly against the wall while he brought a handful of my hair to his face and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if in ecstasy.
“So much life,” he whispered with unexplained longing.
From out of nowhere, a large chunk of concrete slammed into the top of the Harvester’s head, instantly releasing me from his grasp. His body slumped to the floor in front of me in an unconscious heap.
I looked up to see the naked stranger standing just behind the now incapacitated Harvester with a bloodied chunk of concrete in his hands. His eyes shifted from the male Harvester to me before he too collapsed onto the floor, having used his last bit of strength to save me.
I ran over and grabbed him by the shoulders before his head hit the floor. As the tips of my fingers touched his skin, I felt something like static shock. I tried to keep the stranger propped up, but he was too heavy for me. I cradled his head in my hands and helped him lie back on the tiled floor. When I looked at his face, I saw tears streaming from the corners of his eyes as he stared at me intently, causing me to suddenly feel self-conscious about my appearance.
He raised a shaky hand to my face, gentle in his caress of my cheek as if he were afraid I might disappear.
“I found you,” he said in a raspy voice filled with relief.
“Who are you?” I asked, confused by his reaction to me. Did he think I was someone else?
“I found you,” he repeated before closing his eyes, falling into unconsciousness, his hand dropping to the floor at his side.
CHAPTER TWO
After the stranger’s odd declaration, an unnatural quiet settled around me. The stillness unnerved me more than the violence had. The stranger’s breathing seemed steady, so I hastily got to my feet to check on my friends. I ran to the other end of the library, kneeling beside Ash’s deathly still body, checking for any visible signs of injury. I saw none.
“Ash,” I said, leaning over him, tentatively touching his face, praying he was still alive. His skin was warm against my fingertips. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I leaned down close to his ear and whispered, “Ash, please wake up.”
He didn’t stir at my gentle urging, but at least he was still alive. Having no way to know how serious his injuries were, I decided not to move him. If anything were broken, I knew such a thing would do more harm than good.
I caressed the side of his face and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Don’t you dare die on me,” I told him.
A life without Ash was unimaginable. Without him by my side, I couldn’t see myself making if for very long on my own. He was the strong one, not me.
Seeing that there wasn’t much else I could do for Ash, I went to check on Blue. Blue was still breathing, just knocked out cold from being slammed so hard against the floor. Like Ash, I couldn’t tell if anything was broken but was grateful to not see any outward signs of blood loss.
The pressure of time was like a physical weight against my chest. I knew I only had a few more minutes before the Harvesters healed themselves enough to regain consciousness. The man would be first. He had sustained the least amount of damage.
The only ways to truly kill a Harvester was to sever the head from the body, remove the heart, or douse them with a high dose of radiation. The nanites running rampant throughout their systems would rapidly heal the damage they had already sustained if I didn’t do something fast.
The only true nemesis to Harvesters was time. For some reason, the nanites, which were able to keep their skin, bones, and muscles from deteriorating, caused their internal organs to age at an unnaturally fast rate for which the small robotic promises of immortality were useless in preventing. Some called it the mark of Cain, since the Harvesters were willing to kill their fellow humans in order to fulfill the promise of everlasting life.
I learned from my father each Harvester had a computer chip implanted deep inside their brains. The chip was the central core of the nanites thought processes. The only way to sever the connection between the chip and the nanites was to separate the head from the body.
I rummaged through Ash’s jacket and found the collapsible skinning knife he always kept on him. I tried to brace myself against the horror awaiting me and stood, slowly walking back over to the bodies. The mere idea of cutting off the heads of the Harvesters made me sick to my stomach. But I knew I had no other option. We were all dead otherwise.
As I knelt down beside the male Harvester, I couldn’t help but wonder what he had been like before he had agreed to be converted. What made him want to live forever? Or had he been seduced by the idea of becoming godlike with super human powers? Due to his small frame size, I could well imagine him being bullied as a child, perhaps even as an adult. The temptation to be the one doing the bullying was most likely his real reason for abandoning his soul.
I held the edge of the knife against his throat, trying to focus on what I had to do. I’m not sure how long I stayed in that position transfixed by the pulsating rhythm of the artery on the side of the Harvester’s neck. I had never taken a life before, and I was having difficulty in reasoning it was either him or us. I lowered my shaking hand and felt the knife’s edge slice through the man’s skin, the blood pooling into a thin red line against the blade.
Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“I’ll do it,” Ash said, kneeling beside me, cradling his head with one hand and my wrist with the other.
I had been concentrating so hard on my task, I hadn’t even heard him walk along the paper-littered library floor from the other side of the room.
I immediately let go of the knife and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Are you all right?” I asked, pulling away to look into his eyes. Having been a witness to his injury, I knew he was lucky to be alive, much less walking and talking.
“Yeah, just a little dizzy.” He tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Why don’t you go see what you can do for Blue and that guy they had with them? I’ll deal with the Harvesters.”
I nodded, feeling the sting of relieved tears. I hugged Ash around the neck once more, silently thanking him for shouldering my burden.
I walked over to check on Blue again, but he was still knocked out cold. He looked like he was taking a peaceful nap, and I prayed there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him.
The metallic smell of fresh blood filled the air as Ash went to work on the first Harvester. It was almost impossible to ignore the sound of him working the knife in and out of the soft tissue of the Harvester’s throat. I decided it would be in my best interest to focus my full attention on the stranger to block out the horror of what was happening behind me.
As soon as I walked over to the stranger, I was brought up short and made a beeline for my backpack. As I made my way back to him, I pulled out a red-and-black-checkered wool blanket from the depths of my pack and draped it over his body. It was my first time to see a naked man, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about the experience except for being embarrassed.
I sat down beside him and surveyed the gash over his left eyebrow. It was deep, down to the bone.
I rummaged through my belongings and found the small sewing kit I kept stashed away there. Clothes which actuall
y fit me were hard to come by. I was far too thin from years of traveling and surviving on what food we could scavenge or hunt down for most of the clothing we found to fit properly. So, I kept the kit on me to patch my clothes when they needed it.
After threading the smallest, sharpest needle I had with a length of pink thread, I pinched the torn pieces of flesh together and began stitching. I was thankful the stranger wasn’t conscious to feel the sting of the needle as it glided in and out of his torn flesh. When I was finished, I sat back and looked at my handiwork. It wasn’t bad, though a bit uneven. He was sure to have a permanent scar, but there wasn’t much else I could do.
I cautiously looked over at Ash to see how far along he was. He’d taken off his father’s jacket, which turned out to be a smart move because his hands and white T-shirt were now stained crimson. He was just getting to his feet, having finished severing the head of the female Harvester.
I saw him pick her head up by its long black silky strands. The sightless eyes of the female Harvester stared straight ahead, no longer a part of the world she had hoped to live in forever. Ash walked over to the male Harvester’s body and retrieved the severed head sitting there.
“Do you need my help?” I asked, feeling ashamed and selfishly relieved Ash was handling all of the dirty work.
Ash gave a curt shake of his head and walked toward the opening where the door had been. Blood dripped from the torn flesh of our would-be executioners, making a twin trail on the library floor as Ash made his way outside.
I focused my attention back on the stranger, wanting to erase the gruesome image of Ash carrying two severed heads in his hands from my mind but knowing it would now be a permanent part of my memories.
As I continued to stare fixedly at the stranger, I found myself realizing how handsome he was. He reminded me of a male model I saw once in the pages of an old magazine. I think the advertisement was for a pair of underwear called Calvin Klein.
His face was smooth, unblemished except for the stitches I had just made. He had high arching cheekbones, full lips, and a dimpled chin. He looked to be over six feet tall, a little taller than Ash. His hair was dark brown with streaks of auburn highlights running through it, making the strands appear almost red in the dim light of morning.
I couldn’t help but wonder why he had reacted to me the way he did before passing out. What did he mean by “I found you” when there was no possible way we could have ever met before?
Ash walked back into the room and strode straight to the body of the female Harvester with a determined look on his face. He lifted her torso underneath the arms and began dragging the headless corpse outside. I rose to my feet and went to him.
He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at me with hollow eyes.
“I’ve got it, Skye,” he said, a warning in his voice, already knowing my intentions.
“You did the hard part,” I told him, picking up the legs of the Harvester by the ankles. “At least let me help you this small bit.”
Ash hesitated then gave a reluctant nod.
Within a few short minutes, we had the remains of the two Harvesters moved out of the library. The stench of fresh blood hung in the air of the enclosed space, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. Blood stained the floor like a giant red carpet.
After the horrible chore was complete, Ash tore off his blood-soaked T-shirt and used the back of it to wipe the blood from his hands. He then wrapped it into a tight ball and threw it as hard as he could to the far end of the library. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a black T-shirt with the imprint of a white dragon on the front. He stood with his back to me for a long while, head hung low, completely silent. I wasn’t sure what to do but felt the need to offer him what comfort I could.
When I stepped in front of him, he didn’t raise his eyes to mine for a long time. I wasn’t even sure my presence had registered in his mind. I stood there, waiting for him to come back from wherever his thoughts had taken him to cope with what he had just done. Finally, he took a step closer to me and drew me into his arms, resting his chin against the top of my head. I laid my cheek against his chest, content to stay in his warm embrace for as long as he wanted me to.
Since I was seven years old, I’d had a crush on Ash. When we escaped from the breeding camp as teenagers, Ash had taken on the roles of friend, protector, and provider, never displaying any other emotion to me.
On my sixteenth birthday, the romantic in me desperately wanted Ash’s view of me to change. I wanted him to see that I was a woman now and not just a frightened little girl who needed his protection. So, when he asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told him I wanted a kiss. He seemed taken aback by my request but didn’t refuse. The meeting of our lips had been awkward, at best. Ash’s lips had been cold and unyielding, like a block of ice. Without having to say a word, I instantly knew he was telling me the kiss was not something he wanted to be doing, and that he didn’t view me as someone to be desired.
I abruptly broke the kiss off and ran away from him in tears, feeling like a fool for expecting the kiss to cause him to have a grand epiphany about his undying love for me. From that moment on, my heart tried to purge itself of the pent up romantic notions I had about Ash falling madly in love with me. It was more than apparent in that one kiss I would never be anything more to him than a friend. But, for some reason, I couldn’t abandon all hope he would come around one day and see me as someone worthy enough to fall in love with. I knew it was foolish and pointless, but what else did I have to wish for?
Now, feeling Ash hold my body so tightly against his, my adolescent fantasy of him wanting me swelled to the surface. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his waist, allowing myself to escape into a world where everything was perfect and Ash loved me like a man loves a woman.
I felt him try to pull away but refused to let him go, tightening my hold. I wasn’t ready to face the horrors of the real world we lived in, not yet.
One of Ash’s callused hands gently caressed the side of my exposed cheek, traveling down its length to cup my chin in the warmth of his palm.
“Skye, look at me,” he whispered tenderly.
I relented to his plea and reluctantly loosened my hold on him, raising my head off his chest to meet his gaze.
The glistening of unshed tears swam in the ocean of Ash’s clear blue eyes. It was the first time I had ever seen him on the verge of crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him, words almost failing me in that moment, unaccustomed to taking on the role of comforter.
He shook his head. “I…I don’t know what I would have done if they’d hurt you,” he admitted, his voice low like he didn’t quite trust it to remain steady as he spoke.
“I’ve tried to protect you from everything,” he said, a pained expression on his face. “Even me…”
“You?” I asked confused.
He cupped his hands on either side of my face as I continued to stare into his eyes, still trying to fathom the true meaning of his words.
“God, you don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?” he asked, his eyes searching every contour of my face for an answer.
I felt the hair on my arms stand up on end. My heart began to pound inside my chest, taking up a happy, excited rhythm. I felt shy all of a sudden, not knowing if Ash actually expected me to verbally answer his question or not.
Unfortunately, I never got the chance to find out.
Ash dropped his hands from my face, pressing the heels of them into his temples as hard as he could. His face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of pain as he dropped to his knees unleashing a cry of blood curdling agony. Blood streamed out of the corners of his eyes and each nostril. He screamed once more before falling onto his side, his body convulsing like he was having a seizure before going completely limp.
“Ash!” I knelt down and pressed my hand to his throat to check for a pulse. It was there but faint. “Ash,” I pleaded, running a frantic hand across his forehe
ad, “wake up. Wake up!”
“He needs a doctor.”
I twisted at the waist when I heard the strange woman’s voice come from the direction of the library entrance.
She was dressed in a snow white parka with a black fur-lined hood, white jeans, and black knee-high boots. Her heart-shaped face was creamy white, acting as the perfect background for her bluer than blue eyes, which were looking straight at me. Her blonde hair was cut short in a messy style.
I stood and fully turned to face her.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Rose, Skye, and I’ve come to help you.”
I felt my body tense involuntarily.
“How do you know my name?”
An understanding smile spread her glossy pink lips.
“I know everything about you. That’s why I’m here.” Her eyes dropped to Ash. I saw a moment of recognition and panic cross her porcelain features.
“He means a great deal to you, doesn’t he?” From the tone of her voice, the question didn’t sound like a question, more like a statement of fact.
“He means everything to me.”
Rose nodded as if fully expecting my answer, dragging her eyes from Ash to look back up at me.
“Do you love him enough to do anything to save his life?” She cocked her head to the side, awaiting my answer.
“Yes.”
“Then let me take him to a place where he can get the medical attention he needs.”
“Where do we need to take him?”
Rose shook her head slowly. Her gaze shifted to the stranger still lying unconscious on the floor a few feet away.
“You have to stay here and take care of him,” she said before looking back at me. “I’ll take Ash where he needs to be.”
“You’re not taking him anywhere without me.” I took a step forward to protect Ash as much as I could, desperately trying to remember where the gun was but unable to recall where the male Harvester had thrown it in the scuffle with Ash.
