Reaping by K. Makansi Read Free Book Online Page A

training kicks in.
    Pivot. Aim. Fire. Cover.
    She falls, twitching, into a heap. Unconscious.
    “What the—?” Another soldier runs along the edge of the clearing, glancing at his fallen comrade and then staring right at us, trying to triangulate our position. He drops and rolls for cover. I wait. Seconds tick by. Then his head followed by his weapon appears from behind a bush. Pivot. Aim. Fire. Cover. He drops and goes silent.
    “Wow,” Kenzie breathes.
    “That’s what real military training will do for you,” Firestone growls from behind us. “Which is exactly why we need to get our woman and get out. Let’s move.”
    “Firestone!” Jahnu whispers. “Your shoulder….”
    I turn, squinting through the dim light. Even in the dusky twilight, I can make out the wafting of burning skin smell and the telltale scent of ozone and electrical burn telling me Firestone caught the brunt of the Bolt that flew over my head.
    “Fuckers shot me,” he swears through gritted teeth, as if just now realizing this. I help him sit up and assess the damage.
    “Could be worse. Third degree burns, but they just grazed your shoulder. The affected area's not large.”
    “Large enough to piss me off. Give me my gun.” Firestone gestures with his good arm, maybe in an attempt to prove he’s not hurt.
    “You sure?”
    “Give me my damn gun.”
    I hand him his weapon, and he cradles it in his good arm. He sucks in a stricken breath as he pushes himself to his feet. He steadies himself and holds the gun up, wincing, his narrow black eyes scrunching up in pain. In the smoke and fading light, he looks downright feral.
    “Good thing they shot me in the wrong arm,” he says.
    “You’re nuts,” I respond. “Let’s get the prisoner.”
    Jahnu stays behind with Firestone while Kenzie and I creep into the clearing.
    My gun is up, Kenzie at my side. Smoke floats around us. My eyes cloud and water, and I blink and try not to cough. I duck low, both for cover and to stay out of the smoke. I come to the woman’s motionless figure and find her eyes open, staring at me. Kenzie immediately drops to the ground and pushes her hair back, examining her, looking for a wound, an injury, anything she can splint or bind or stitch. The girl’s strawberry blond hair is matted and bloody, caked to the side of her head, and her body is covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises. Her pupils are so dilated, her eyes look otherworldly.
    “Can you hear me?” I ask.
    She nods and starts to speak, but coughs instead. Her eyes widen slightly, and I sense she’s recognized me. “You! You’re—”
    “I’m here to help you,” I start to put my hands under her back and legs, to pick her up, but she thrashes out at me, glancing at Kenzie as if afraid. She’s so weak her movements don’t do much more than startle me, but I don’t want to carry her if she’s going to fight me every step of the way.
    “Listen,” Kenzie says fiercely, “he’s not with the Sector soldiers. We’re part of Thermopylae Team Red of the Resistance. We’re going to get you out of here.”
    She shakes her head fiercely. “Too late,” she chokes. Spittle flecked with blood wets her lips. I jerk my head up and around, looking for soldiers. Has she seen something I haven’t? But she reaches up and grabs my jacket collar, pulling me back to her. “Doll’s eyes,” she rasps.
    I swear under my breath and glance over at Kenzie, who’s staring at the young woman in front of us, aghast.  So that’s why her pupils are so big.
    “How long ago?” I demand. Doll’s eyes are poisonous. They kill by attacking and rapidly shutting down the body’s organs. Depending on how many berries she ate, she’ll have between fifteen and forty-five minutes before her heart stops beating. Kenzie’s got a few antidotes in her medical kit, but I doubt she has anything for that kind of poison, and the expression on her face confirms my suspicion. The plant is pervasive around the Sector, but the