The Harvest Read Online Free Page A

chest, he saw Dr.
Blain moving a pencil-sized tool over his gash. It was white, with
a silver button near its tip, which she depressed with her
forefinger. Blue light projected from a small, glass ball floating
an inch in front of the device, fanning out and illuminating his
injury.
    Amazement swept away his nausea and disgust
at viewing his insides. Under the effervescent light, the damaged
tissue in his shoulder and chest regenerated. Lacerated blood
vessels elongated and reconnected, muscle tissue reformed, and the
jagged sides of the wound rejoined from the bottom up. Dr. Blain
moved the light slowly over the area, and the laceration closed,
leaving fresh, unblemished skin in its wake.
    Although he experienced no pain, the sight of
his miraculous healing was more than he could bear in his weakened
state. He fought to stay alert, but a haze closed in on his vision,
and then darkness.
    Opening his eyes, Shane glanced frantically
around the white walls and ceiling of the room. It took a second
for him to gain his bearings, to remember he was in the medical
clinic on a military base hidden somewhere in the Appalachian
Mountains.
    Dr. Blain sat on a stool a couple of feet
from him, typing on a computer that seemed entirely created of
light. A holographic screen hovered in front of her, both it and
the keyboard projecting from a dice-sized silver cube. Technology
he’d never seen or heard of. He expected the government had things
they didn’t share with the public, but the advanced computer she
used and the healing pen that closed his wounds were full-on
science fiction.
    Glancing down at his bare chest, he was
stunned by her work. The cuts and bruises Steve gave him were gone.
A streak of white, hairless flesh was where his injuries had once
been. His new skin looked like it belonged on a baby, all soft and
delicate.
    Shane pivoted, the padding of the examination
table squeaking under him as he sat upright. He braced himself,
expecting to feel dizzy and weak. Instead, he was refreshed, as if
he’d woken from a good night’s sleep, and the trauma to his body
had never occurred.
    “All better?” Dr. Blain asked, smiling at him
compassionately and sounding a little proud of herself.
    “Uh,” he glanced down at his rejuvenated body
once more, “I reckon so.”
    “See—told you. And well before lunch.”
    He had trouble focusing on her different
colored eyes. His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t even
had breakfast.
    “I don’t get it. How did you do this?” He ran
his right hand over the smooth place were the laceration had
been.
    “Let’s just say we have toys not everyone is
familiar with.” Dr. Blain grinned. “Here are fresh clothes for you.
If you’ll get dressed and go to the waiting room, I can patch up
your friends.”
    Pushing off the exam table, his bare feet
landed on the cold, tile floor. He hadn’t noticed until this point,
but he was only in his underwear. During the helicopter ride, blood
had leaked out of his bandage, dripping all the way down to his
knee. She must’ve thought his leg was injured and had cut away his
pants to treat him.
    Embarrassed, his hands shot down to offer
some extra coverage, but Dr. Blain was focused on her typing, so
there was no cause for alarm. On a chair at the foot of the exam
table sat neatly folded clothes. Fresh socks, underwear, running
shorts, and a T-shirt, all black, awaited him. Glancing at the
doctor once more and satisfied she wouldn’t look his way, he turned
his back to her and slipped out of his skivvies—which also had
blood drying on them. He donned the new clothes as quickly as
possible. Black running shoes lay on the floor in front of the
chair, the last things he put on.
    Once dressed, he looked at the doctor. She
didn’t turn away from her computer, affording him the same trust
Lily had in turning her back on him at the farmhouse. She was using
her finger to mark the areas where his wounds had been on a
holographic image of him.