Harvest Day

Copyright © 2023 by Tamar Sloan and Heidi Catherine Cover art by Stefanie Saw (seventhstarart.com) All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Harvest Day TAMAR SLOAN HEIDI CATHERINE Chapter One ECHO “Get off me!” Echo swats at her face, only to find more tiny creatures swarming toward her. “Get away!” She searches for Chase in the mass of onlookers behind the net but can’t find him. Not that it would make any difference. Chase can’t help her. Running is futile. Death is inevitable. The bees come at her in a shimmering cloud of black and gold and she collapses to the ground, burying her face in her hands. This isn’t how she wanted to spend her last moments. She has to be brave. Pulling herself to her knees, her hands fall away and she looks up at the sky, seeing a glimpse of blue before the swarm envelops her. She tries to hold still. To accept her fate silently with whatever dignity she has left. But her skin burns as lethal venom is injected into her veins one tiny barb at a time and she lets out a scream. With her heart pounding, Echo’s eyes fly open and she finds herself lying on her mat in the small home she shares with her father. Two words pound at her temples. It’s today. Her nightmares have become more and more vivid as her Confirmation has drawn closer. Maybe now it’s finally here, she’ll be left in peace. Or maybe she won’t be alive to dream. She plants her feet on the dirt floor and stands. Pushing down the anxiety bubbling in her gut, she wipes the sweat from her forehead. Her father is snoring softly and she tiptoes past his bed. The scurge is strong in him now, which means he needs his rest more than she needs to fulfill her promise of waking him. She can say goodbye later. If everything goes to plan, maybe there’ll be no need to say goodbye at all. Picking up her backpack, Echo slips out the door, careful not to let it creak on its rusted hinges, and breathes in the early morning air. Soon, people will emerge onto the street, kicking up clouds of dust in their haste to get away from the desperation of their falling-down homes, and the air will taste like chalk. A bird squawks in the distance and she looks up at the enormous net that domes their colony. If the bird is trapped, hopefully it hasn’t caused too much damage. Maybe she could just— No. She doesn’t have time to worry about either hunting a bird or fixing a net right now. Nola is counting on her. She can’t possibly let her down. Especially not today. The bird lets out a strangled cry and falls abruptly silent. Somebody will eat well today. Hopefully it was Chase. He could use a good feed. Actually, there’s not a single Vulnerable in the Dead Zone who couldn’t. They’re all as hungry as they are sick. She winds her way down the street, looking at the homes as if seeing them for the first time, which is ironic given it may be the last. Cobbled together from scraps of metal and timber, the Vulnerables make the best of whatever they can find. At least underneath the net, their colony is safe. Maybe not from starvation or the scurge, but from a far greater threat. Turning the corner at the end of the street, Echo makes her first stop, bending to knock on a small door, about half the size of a regular one. “Nola!” she calls. “It’s Echo.” “Quickly!” the old woman calls back. “Check behind you before you come in.” Echo tucks her long dark plait over her shoulder and has a look around. “Be quick!” Nola calls. “Hurry. Don’t let them in.” Echo pushes hard on the door to dislodge the rags that have been jammed in to fill the gaps. It swings open and she crawls through and closes it, putting the rags back just the way Nola likes them. “You didn’t let any in, did you?” Nola’s voice is laced with fear. “You weren’t followed?” Echo stands and separates the thick curtain that acts as a second door, entering the dimly lit room. “It’s okay.” She spins around so Nola can inspect her from her battered armchair. “I’m alone.” Nola’s eyes narrow through the netting she wears wrapped around her head, scanning Echo’s compact body until she’s satisfied she hasn’t brought in any intruders. “Did you sleep in your chair again?” Echo shakes her head as she moves forward. “You know it’s not good for your back.” “Nothing’s good for my back,” Nola snaps. “Hurts lying down. Hurts sitting up. Hurts when I try to stand. The scurge is growing in me. I can feel it.” Echo leans forward. “Let’s get you moving. I don’t want you getting any sores.” “Already got plenty of them.” Nola unwinds her netting and pulls back her lips to reveal her bleeding gums. “Lost another tooth last night.” “I’m so sorry.” Echo puts a gentle hand on Nola’s arm and helps her to stand. “I wish there was more I could do.” “You do more than anyone else.” Nola leans heavily on Echo as she leads her to her wash bowl. “It’s like they think they’ll catch the scurge if they come near me. Bunch of scared bears.” Echo nods, knowing it’s not the disease that’s keeping everyone away, but rather Nola’s sharp tongue. Lack of nutrition might be prolific in the Dead Zone but it’s not contagious. “Maybe if you didn’t lock yourself up in here all day, people might think to help,” Echo points out. “Stay outside when you collect your rations, instead