The Harvest
“Pop says. He winces when he speaks, as if the dancing light of the fire hurts his eyes.Agrasanto looks up, a glop of gruel ration on the tip of her thumb, then pops that thumb into her mouth like a lollipop to suck it off. The taste is bland, like eating wet clay. Hunger is hunger, though. “Do you, now.”“Boxelder. You helped those folks.”“Did I.”He leans forward—she can see that he’s changed since last they met. There’s a wildness to him now, like he’s just a hair more animal than man. Or maybe... that’s how he always was, and all this has brought it back out. Don’t worry, Arthur, I’ve changed, too. He says, “Some of the Boxelder folks ended up with me and my people. They told me what you did for them. Those who left survived. Those who stayed, they were turned into—”“I know what happened to them.”“You obviously don’t approve. Or didn’t then.”“Still don’t.” A shudder runs through her at what the Empyrean has been doing to people. She’s seen it, at a distance.MoreLess
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