The Harvest Read Free Page A

delivery, water recycling, composting, or bioluminescence, so I knew I was unlikely to run into any of my old friends. The smoke came cheap and plentiful, and escape was just a few puffs away. And the place was open twenty-four seven.
    I thought I had changed my appearance enough to go unnoticed, but Meera recognized me right away. She’d been looking for me, she said.
    She slid into my booth and offered me a pull from her water pipe. I rarely smoke, finding the atmosphere calming enough on its own. Plus, I was running out of seeds.
    â€œMy name’s Meera,” she said. “We should be friends.”
    I hesitated, trying not to look suspicious. “What makes you say that?”
    Ignoring the question, she held her pipe out to me. “This is my favorite flavor. Tastes like black caps. I think you’ll like it.”
    Black caps . That’s how I knew. It’s what Outsiders call wild blackberries and raspberries. They grow in great brambly bushes in parts of Outsider territory, and every tiny corpuscle tastes like a burst of heaven. Rhinehouse says the Sector’s version, the ones they use in Mealpaks, have been so hybridized they hardly have any taste at all. I don’t even remember eating them when I was younger.
    â€œBlack caps. Never heard of such a thing.” I took a long drag, feeling the calm sink in, remembering how I used to love smoking with Eli, Jahnu, and Kenzie at Thermopylae. Meera leaned in, elbows on the table.
    â€œWord on the street is we have friends in common,” she said, looking me up and down. “You hungry?”
    â€œStarving.” Meera flashed her siren smile, and in the haze of the blackberry smoke, I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.
    â€œI can help you with that. Let’s go to my apartment. I’ve got food to spare. We can catch up on how our mutual friends are doing.”
    I was hesitant at first, reluctant to trust anyone. But after weeks with no news of Vale, no word from Chan-Yu, Soren, Osprey, Miah, or anyone else in the Resistance, I’d finally found someone to talk to. Or rather, someone had found me. My mind foggy with hunger, loneliness, and desperation, I figured if Meera was a spy for the Sector, she’d lead me right to Corine. I was willing to take the risk.
    My trust was well-founded. Meera fed me, gave me extra clothes, replenished my disguise makeup, and now she’s going to let me move into her apartment.
    â€œEverything is mostly cleaned out,” Meera says, pulling a shirt up over her head to change clothes for work. “I won’t be far, and I’ll be by every few days with food.”
    â€œI hate to kick you out of your own place,” I say, protesting for the thousandth time and trying not to stare at the scarred lines on her back. One time, I asked how she got her scar, but she just gave me a sly smile and said nothing.
    â€œRemy, you’re not kicking me out. This place is hardly big enough for two and besides, I’ll be staying with a very close friend.” She winks.
    I think of Vale, the idea of staying with him someday in a warm house, with a proper kitchen, and a real bed. If we live long enough.
    â€œIf the meeting with Snake goes well, you’ll have a better idea of where Vale is and how you can see him. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
    â€œI can’t thank you enough. For everything.”
    â€œIf you ever need to run, there’s a safe house on the outskirts of Okaria the Outsiders stay at sometimes. You might know about it.” Her eyes twinkle. “It’s your grandfather’s house.”
    â€œKanaan’s?” I ask, wide-eyed. “Outsiders stay there?”
    â€œOn occasion. It’s big, empty, comfortable. What more could we ask for?” She squeezes my hand and whispers, “We’ll talk soon. Good luck.”
    It’s still dark—the first hint of dawn is edging the horizon—when Meera leaves. I