Page 3
“Ezra.”
His head lifts and my chest breaks. “Ezra.” I call out again.
He crosses the distance between us and I throw myself against him. His arms close around me and for a second… there’s no Harvest. No screaming corn. No thing growing inside my skin. There’s only him.
“Get me out.” I tell him.
His hand slides behind my head as he presses his forehead against mine. The mask is cold against my skin.
Then he takes my wrist and pulls at the red ribbon, only tightening the knot.
“No.”
He pulls harder.
“Ezra stop.”
He tears at the ribbon, but it refuses to break. His movements turn frantic, both hands gripping the fabric as he pulls harder.
But nothing happens.
A sound rips from behind the stitched mouth of his mask. Not a word… but a roar of pure frustration.
He reaches for the knife at his waist and draws it in one sharp motion. The instant the blade touches the ribbon, the earth shifts beneath our feet.
We freeze.
Then something enormous shifts under us.
Dirt erupts between the rows as roots tear through the ground. One coils around Ezra’s ankle. Another snakes toward me, wrapping tight around mine.
“EZRA!” I scream.
He swings the knife and cuts through mine then his but more come. Too many at this point.
He grabs my hand and we run—together.
The corn begins to bend around us, but there’s no wind. One by one, every stalk bows in the same direction until, the entire field seems to lean toward me.
My stomach tightens.
I scream, then something tears and warm liquid runs down my legs causing Ezra to stop.
We look down at the earth—under my feet turns red.
His hand tightens around mine. “No, no fucking way.”
It’s the first words I’ve heard him speak since they put the mask on him.
My knees buckle but he catches me.
Another contraction rips through me. Then another. Coming too fast—too violent.
“This isn’t a child,” I sob.
He looks at my stomach and nods.
Behind us, the drums begin again. One. Two. Three.
