Hope (Book 2, Harvester of Light Trilogy; Young Adult Science Fiction) (22 page)

“It’ll last long
enough.  The natural ozone layer is slowly repairing itself but it will take a
few hundred years for it to be complete.  The machine should last until that
time.”

I let my eyes
wander around the map noting the blue and red dots marking specific areas. 
There were also gold points marked but there were only two of them.

“What do the
different colored markers mean?” I asked.

“They’re all
camps.  The red camps manufacture energy of some sort like gas or electricity,
the blues ones are the food manufacturing sites and the gold ones mark the
camps which make harvester chips and nanites.”

Walsh had told me
the camp I was in made harvester chips and nanites.  One camp was in Roanoake, Virginia
and the other one was in the middle of Geneva, New York.  Considering the time
it took to fly to the camp, I had to be in the Roanoke camp.

“So you grew up
here in Roanoke?”

“Yes.  Emma and I
came to live with our grandmother when we were ten years old.”

“What was she
like?  Your grandmother.”

“Well she didn’t
like kids,” my mother said matter of factly.  “She mostly made Grace take care
of us.  She subscribed to the school of thought that children should be seen
and not heard.  Emma and I would usually end up in the attic playing so we
didn’t disturb her.”

“Did she just
ignore you?”

My mother let out
a harsh laugh.  “I wish she had.  No, our grandmother made sure we learned the
meaning of discipline.  Every night before we went to bed she would come in and
whip us with a willow branch.”

“For what?”

“She said children
almost always do something wicked everyday and wanted to make sure we were
properly chastised for it.”

“Even is she
didn’t see you do anything wrong?”

“I didn’t mind the
whippings that much,” my mother said, a far off look on her face like she was
mentally reliving the events from her childhood.

“What did she do
to you if she actually caught you doing something bad?”

“Put us in the
cage.”

“What was that?”

“It was a room in
the basement, not a real cage.  Emma and I just called it that.  The only way
in or out was through a trapdoor.  There aren’t any windows down there just a
twelve by twelve room.  She wouldn’t let us have a flashlight saying it would
make us weak to depend on something so transient.”

“How long would
she keep you there?”

“Depended on what
we did.  If it was just talking out of turn, a few hours.  One time I broke an
expensive vase because Emma and I were playing chase in the house.  She kept me
down there for a week, only letting Grace bring me food once a day.  I tended
to get into trouble a lot when I was younger but her discipline made me better,
more focused.”

“Didn’t anyone try
to help you?”

“Grace did,” my mother’s
focus returned to me as she let go of the past.  “She would sneak down at night
after my grandmother went to sleep and talk to me through the trapdoor to keep
me company so I wouldn’t be so frightened.  It was all she could do because my
grandmother kept the key to the door on her bracelet.”

I understood
better why my mother kept Grace around.  Deep down she felt a connection with
Grace, whether it was gratitude or some undying loyalty I wasn’t sure.  I
couldn’t fault her for keeping someone who had helped her when she was
defenseless to help herself.

“That helps
explain why you care for her so much,” I said.

My mother looked
at me like she didn’t understand why I would come to such a conclusion.

“You care for her
because she cared for you when you needed it the most,” I tried to explain.

“Caring for a
human isn’t logical,” my mother said, holding her head high.

As if knowing we
were talking about her, Grace walked into the room pushing a silver cart
through the door with a tea service, a plate of biscuits, butter and jam.

“I thought the two
of you might like a snack,” Grace said wheeling the cart to my mother’s desk.

“Thank you,
Grace,” my mother walked over to the other woman.

The stench of
death hung in the air around Grace but I tried not to let it bother me.  She
was, after all, my mother’s first loyal servant in what would become a world of
them.

Grace smiled,
pleased with her foresight in providing what my mother wanted.  I suppose it
would be hard to replace Grace in my mother’s eyes.  The woman knew what she
needed without having to ask for it.  That was a rare talent in a servant.

My mother breathed
in the heady aroma of freshly baked biscuits and picked up the butter knife,
studying its dull edge.

With one swift
motion, my mother twirled the butter knife in her hand and stabbed Grace
directly in the heart.  The older woman grabbed at the knife and but was unable
to summon the strength necessary to pull it out of her chest.  She fell to her
knees with one word slipping from her old cracked lips.

“Why?”

My mother towered
over Grace, her expression filled with disgust.

“To prove a point
to my daughter.  To show her you should cut the people you once cared about out
of your life because they can only be a liability in the long run.  I don’t
need you anymore, Grace.  I’m not that child who needed you when she was locked
in the basement.  That person hasn’t existed for a very long time.”

The pain on
Grace’s face didn’t seem to only be physical.  My mother’s words appeared to be
stopping her heart just as deftly as the dull blade of the butter knife.

I watched the
light of Grace’s life fade as she closed her eyes.  Her breathing slowed and
the beats of her heart went silent.

A glowing gossamer
mist floated above Grace’s corpse, hovering there as if it were watching us. 
Then it quickly shot out of the room.

“What was that
light?” I asked.

My mother pulled
her gaze away from Grace’s body to look at me.

“Her soul,” she
answered.

“I’ve watched
people die before but I’ve never seen that.”

“You weren’t a harvester
before either,” my mother said.  “We see things normal humans can’t.”

 “What will happen
to my soul when I die?”

“You’re a
harvester and my daughter, Skye.  You’ll never die so don’t worry about it.”

“But what if
something happens that even you can’t control?  What will happen to my soul?”

“I don’t know,” my
mother said looking back down at Grace’s corpse.  “I’m not completely sure we still
have one.”

Chapter 22

I went to Grace’s
body and studied the corpse while my mother went to get some servants to clean
up the mess.  Grace’s face looked younger now for some reason.  Had the release
of her soul unburdened her body?  I was just about to walk away from her when a
glint of pink caught my eye.  I bent at the waist and picked up the pink heart
shaped stone peaking out of the pocket of Grace’s apron.

I stared at the
rock in the palm of my hand wondering what I should do with it.  When I heard
the door to the study open, I quickly pushed the stone into the back pocket of
the jeans I wore deciding to worry about it later.

My mother and a
female harvester walked into the study.  The harvester quickly picked up Grace’s
body and took her away.  We sat down to eat the tea and biscuits like nothing
had just happened.  To say this seemed odd to me would be an understatement. 
The unexpectedness of my mother’s action and the realization that humans had
souls you could actually see when they departed the host body still had me
reeling.

As a child, my
parents took me to church on special occasions such as Easter and Christmas. 
They weren’t devout Christians but they did believe in a God and tried to pass
on those teachings and values to me.  When we were inside the breeding camp, it
was forbidden to talk about a higher power because we weren’t supposed to
believe in a deity.  We were supposed to only worship our Queen.   Anyone
caught trying to keep the practices of the old way alive were immediately
harvested.  Some welcomed death as a way to show how strong their beliefs were
and bare witness that they would not forsake their God.  I once looked up to
those people but now realized just how ridiculous it was to have faith in a
being you couldn’t see when you had one of flesh and blood standing right in
front of you.  The Queen could in fact grant you immortal life as long as you
spent that life worshiping her; which brought up a question I needed to ask.

“Wilford told me
you designed the Cain virus,” I said.  “Is that true?”

“Yes,” my mother
informed me, setting her cup of tea in its saucer on her desk.

“But why?  Why would
you design something to take away a harvester’s immortality?”

“Simple math
really,” my mother said with a small shrug of her shoulders.  “There are too
many harvesters and too few humans to meet the demand for organs.  As long as
the harvesters believe the resistance is the one who developed the Cain virus,
they have no reason to suspect me and their hatred of the resistance is
strengthened.”

“That’s why you
let Michael and his group live?  So suspicion stays directed towards them?”

“Exactly.  As long
as they exist, anyone who happens to be infected blames them, not me.  And if a
harvester gets out of line, it’s simple enough to have them infected by sending
word to Wilford who in turn directs Michael on who he should infect next.”

“So the resistance
is actually working for you, they just don’t know it.”

My mother smiled. 
“Brilliant wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t expect
anything less from you.”

There was a knock
on the study door.

“Come in,” my
mother instructed.

Instead of opening
the door and walking in the room like a normal person, the intruder of my private
time with my mother simply walked through it while it was still closed.

“Lawrence,” my
mother said in a slightly annoyed tone.  “What is it this time?”

I remembered Lawrence. 
His ability, of course, was being able to walk through things.  I could only
attribute my mother’s sudden irritation to his appearance as meaning he was
still bugging her.  She had said as much when she introduced me to him back at
the castle.  His undying love and loyalty got on her nerves. I could only
imagine that loyalty had increased a hundred fold if he had undergone the
conversion into a true harvester.

I hadn’t thought
about the other people like me who had powers until now.  Apparently Lawrence
either wasn’t released from his cell or had no desire to escape when Michael
and his crew launched their rescue mission.  It made me wonder where Jackson,
the boy who could harness the power around him, and Ava, the girl who could
make plants grow, were now.

“My Queen,” Lawrence
said, bowing at the waist, “I was asked to inform you of a problem.”

Lawrence’s beady
little eyes shifted in my direction.  A half smile played across his lips like
he was pleased to see me.

“What problem Lawrence?”
My mother said irritably, sitting back in her chair.  “I can’t read your mind.”

“I’m sorry, my Queen,”
he said humbly.  “There is an uprising among the humans in the northern
quadrant.”

“What are they
upset about this time?” My mother asked, seeming bored by the topic already. 
Apparently this wasn’t the first time she had encountered such an occurrence.

“There was an
incident at the harvesting facility this morning,” Lawrence looked at me
briefly before returning his gaze to my mother.  “Your daughter could probably
give you a more detailed account than I can.  I was told she was there.”

“What happened
Skye?”

I related the
story about the little girl caught out during curfew hours and the choice I
gave to her mother.

“I don’t see
anything wrong with what you did,” my mother told me.  “In fact you were more
lenient than I would have been.  Next time, let them both be harvested to teach
the other parents a lesson.”

“I’m sorry,” I
said, feeling as though I had let her down in some way.

“As it is, there
isn’t any reason for the humans to be so ungrateful,” my mother stood from her
chair.  “I’ll need to take care of this,” she told me.  “The humans can spread
discontent like wildfire if it isn’t put out immediately.  You should stay here
where it’s safe, Skye.  This shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’d rather go
with you,” I said standing from my chair.  “I should learn how to deal with
situations like this so you don’t have to do it all the time.”

My mother seemed
to consider my words then nodded.

“All right, you
can join me.  But if things get out of hand and I tell you to come back here,
you do what I say.  Understand?”

“Yes.  I’ll do
whatever you tell me.”

“Then let’s go and
remind the humans how fragile their lives are.”

As we made our way
to the foyer, I could see Walsh waiting for us by the front door.

“So how many
humans are misbehaving?” My mother asked him.

“A couple of
hundred.  They are demanding that the mother of the little girl be released
from the harvester facility.”

“They’re
demanding?” My mother asked almost amused.  “Well now, let’s go teach them a
lesson, shall we?”

Five harvester
SUVs and the Queen’s limousine were waiting for us at the front of the house. 
Walsh rode in the back of the limo with me and my mother.  Lawrence was
relegated to ride in one of the SUVs with the regular guards.

“So, is Lawrence a
harvester now?” I asked.

My mother sighed. 
“Honestly, I thought it might shut him up but it only seemed to make him
worse.  I love undying loyalty from my subjects but he takes it to the
extreme.”

“Then why don’t
you just kill him?” I asked.

My mother looked
surprised by my suggestion then smiled.  “I’ll take it under consideration. 
But, I would hate to lose someone with his abilities.  I find it interesting.”