The Harvest Read Online Free

He
realized he couldn’t rely on his big friend’s help in figuring out
what was going on, at least not with the ladies. Steve could face
down a herd of the most vicious footballers without flinching, but
he always turned to mush in the presence of a pretty girl.
    Dr. Blain was an exact replica of Lily,
identical in every way except one of her eyes was an icy blue
color, the other the same honey brown as Lily’s. A wave of nausea
washed over him. It must’ve shown on his face because the doctor
rushed to his side and put a hand on his forehead.
    “You’ve got an infection,” she observed with
concern. “We need to seal your wounds and get some antibiotics in
you.”
    She gently helped roll Shane onto his side
and used scissors to cut his shirt off.
    “If you’ve got a weak stomach, you may want
to step out,” she said to Steve without looking away from her
work.
    The door opened and shut, Steve clearly
taking the invitation to leave, probably too embarrassed by his
squeamishness to say anything about it to Shane. In his weakened
condition, with his shirt off and the laceration in his shoulder
exposed, he felt nervous being left alone with this slightly less
perfect clone of Lily.
    “Relax,” she said softly, her attention on
his wound. “I’ll get you fixed up and out with your friends before
lunch.”
    Not like he had a choice. He felt like crap
and could tell he wasn’t going to get any better without help.
    “What about my friends? They’ve got injuries
too.”
    “I’ll get to them all, but Lily seems to
think yours are the worst and need immediate attention,” she
replied.
    He hadn’t thought so earlier, but with the
way he felt right now, he was starting to agree with her.
    After cutting his shirt to shreds and
removing it without making him move his arm, she prepared two shots
on the bedside table.
    “One of these will ease your pain, and the
other will knock out the infection,” she explained, inverting
little glass vials and filling the syringes.
    Of course, she could be filling them with
poison for all he knew. Keeping his face blank, he stared at the
ceiling. He didn’t want to let on how much he hated needles—he’d
rather be punched in the face than get a shot. The first injection
in the shoulder must’ve been the painkiller, because he didn’t even
feel the second one. The doctor moved around the examination room,
gathering supplies to treat his injuries. By the time she returned
to his side, Shane felt a million times better. The pain medicine
didn’t cloud his consciousness. He was fully awake and a bit
nervous as he watched her remove the last of the blood-soaked gauze
from his chest.
    “At least you got some betadine on this,” she
said. “It might’ve gotten a lot worse otherwise.”
    Thanks to Tracy’s first aid knowledge ,
Shane thought, trying to ignore the smell of blood and keep his
eyes on the ceiling.
    Dr. Blain squirted a numbing solution on the
wound and dabbed it with clean gauze. Curiosity won out, and he got
a clear view of the jagged cut Steve gave him. It was a bloody
mess, like two long strips of poorly butchered steak lay on his
chest and shoulder. What appeared to be a rib was visible at the
bottom of this meat valley, and his collarbone had to be exposed at
the top. Nausea returned in a hot flash, his mouth filling with
metallic saliva.
    “Maybe you should look the other way,” Dr.
Blain advised.
    Rolling his head toward the wall, he closed
his eyes, breathing slow and deep to recover. He felt no pain as
Dr. Blain scrubbed his wound, though the sound of the bristles on
the brush she was using to scrape it clean only increased his
nausea. Then came a humming sound accompanied by soothing warmth
around the injury. He kept his eyes closed, his teeth clamped shut.
Determined not to get sick, he thought of Kelly, of being strong
for her. He wished she were here with him now, but he also didn’t
want her to see him acting so weak.
    Daring a glance at his