The Harvester Page 2

  Billy smirked at me as if he had one up on me, and this pissed me off to no bound.

  “Enough to know that the alive in the Here will soon be the dead in the After. What’s funny is, weren’t you and Vega, like, best friends, partners for many moons? The top two Harvesters in the Agency?”

  I was mad then. But I could control my emotions like Miyamoto Musashi taught me so many years ago. “No more talk, demon. Time to be harvested.”

  “But the corn on the cob ain’t ready, Pa!” Billy remarked in a sarcastic redneck tone.

  It’s bad enough I’m dealing with a damned demon, but one who’s sarcastic? Really? Shit. I didn’t give the demon the chance to make the first move. I charged at Billy with my sword properly positioned to kill. Suddenly, Billy closed his eyes, and a blinding, magnificent red light flashed the area and blinded me. I immediately stopped in my place and couldn’t help but to rub my burning eyes. The light vanished and I gained my vision back and realized Billy Gunn was now standing over the host body, which was lying unconscious on the unforgiving concrete. Billy looked exactly like his photo. And I must admit, he’s a physical triumph, which I don’t wish to battle face-to-face. But if I must, I definitely will. What an exciting challenge. And I do have a job to do.

  He deeply breathed as the wind picked up and blew the trash into the air. Billy inhumanly and abnormally rocketed toward me without even using his legs and feet. Demons have plenty of tricks and mischievous talents. He sliced at me with his sharp claws and ripped into me. I yelled in pain and stumbled backward. Billy leapt onto my back. I felt his mouth open wide and tried to bite into my neck with his razor-sharp teeth. I lost grip of my sword, and Billy released me and kicked it away from me. I grabbed him by the head and rammed it into the wall. This seemed to not faze him in the least.

  He picked me up high in the air and hurled me down the alley with ease. I hit the ground hard, and it knocked the wind out of me. But it’s worth the pain because I realizd my sword, my friend, my lifeline, was lying beside me.

  “Bad mistake, Billy,” I softly said.

  I snatched my sword by the hilt and jumped up to battle, but Billy had vanished.

  “Hey,” Billy said out of my vision.

  Suddenly, I found myself being raised into the air and put in a tight neck hold by Billy. I reacted the only way I could being put in such a dying position. I thrust my sword down and through Billy’s foot. He released me with a scream of hellish pain. Yes, demons can feel pain and you don’t need a young priest and an old priest to do it. I swung my sword at his throat as he draws a .45 Smith and Wesson, so I redirected my swing angle and sliced through his gun-wielding hand. This is one of my favorite moves. His hand dropped to the ground with the gun firing. Billy dropped to his knees, clutching at his wound as black blood pours out of it. I kicked him onto his back and put my boot on his neck with my spurs spinning an inch away from cutting him. Now I have the upperhand.

  “Come on. Let me go,” he pleaded to me. “I have a lot of money.”

  “Isn’t that a shocker? A demon trying to tempt.”

  “I can give you all the power you want! The power of the Ancients.”

  “All I want is your frickin’ head.”

  I raised my sword and Billy started to chant in some sort of ancient dialect, Summerian maybe. I thrust my sword at his neck and sliced his head off. It rolled a few feet and stopped with his eyes scowling at me. I walked over to it and picked his head up by the hair. I stared into Billy’s evil, cold eyes. Job done. I’ve taken a lot of heads in my time, but you never get used to holding one in your hand. It has been proven that a decapitated head can still see for up to fifteen seconds after decapitation. It thrills me to know that the last vision an Underworlder whom I take out is seeing my sick ass.

  All of a sudden, in Billy’s eyes, I saw a reflection of Billy’s hand scurrying across the ground and touch the host’s body. I immediately dropped the head as the host body sprung back to life. I sprinted over to it and ripped into its stomach with my sword. It dropped to the ground and tried to hold its intestines in, but some spilled out. Billy’s real body and head melted away with a terrible stench. I stood over Billy who died all over again. I must give him credit though.

  “I need to remember that trick, Billy. Impressive.”

  “Do it. Whad’ya waiting for, Harvester?”

  I shrugged without a care and cut off his head again. I felt bad for the host body, but I must consider it collateral damage.

  I pull out my high-powered CB radio. “We need a Cleanup Crew at the third alley on Fifth Street.”

  I lit up a victory cigarette and deeply inhaled and waited for the Cleanup Crew. We Harvesters try to get the job done without the Living knowing, but they know we exist, what we do, why we do it, and they have finally accepted it, for obvious reasons. Only fifteen years ago, all the world’s governments agreed that what we do is very crucial and necessary and passed a government-funded law to pay for all six Agencies to keep existing. I felt my wounds and couldn’t help but wince in pain. Harvesting can be hard work. I needed several beers.

  Twenty minutes later, I found myself at my favorite dive bar. It’s the personification of what the world has become: dark, evil, and lacking compassion. The patrons were just the same. However, the bartender and owner, Sammy, a grisly old man with an eye patch over his right eye, always overpoured for me. And always I appreciated that. Plus, he never wanted to waste time with useless chitchat, and I appreciated that as well. I’ve been on this earth for a long time, and I’ve come to find that most people don’t have much of anything interesting to say. Except for Sammy.

  Nobody in here knows I’m a Harvester and that’s how I prefer it. Ever since the worldwide Heads of all forms of government passed the law for all Harvesters to make it known that we’re Harvesters, the public, citizens—the Living, if you will—treat us differently. Most don’t appreciate what we do because most can’t wrap their minds around what it is we do. I don’t blame ’em. We deal with some real sick shit. Horror story shit. I tossed back yet another shot of tequila with ease.

  You see, alcohol doesn’t affect us as easily as it does the Living. I’ve won plenty of money in drinking games with the unknowing humans.

  I enjoyed sitting at the end of the bar, drinking shot after shot. Sammy wiped down the bar top with a stinky rag as I finished my cigarette. I glanced over at the only two people in the place, a couple who obviously were in love due their actions and motions with one another. They made me think of days long ago. I used to have a beautiful wife, but she was a pure human and had succumbed to cancer. The memory is still fresh in my mind. I was with her at University Medical Center on Campbell Avenue when the doctor told her she had stage 4 ovarian cancer. We were forever devastated. Our lives were forever changed for the worse.

  Everyone knows that someday they will die, but to be told practically exactly when you will is terrifying for most.

  The doctor gave her six to nine months to live. However, she lived the next six years in horrific pain. Life is precious to most and they hope they have a long lifespan.

  Every day she wished she would just die. It was ghastly and terribly horrific to see her wither away day after day. She was feeling excruciating pain, and I felt it by proxy, and my heart was withering with the only love of my life.

  One morning, I woke up extra early due to a gut feeling, and I knew it would happen one day, but I wasn’t ready for it. I rolled out of bed and realized my wife wasn’t present. A sinking feeling hit me harder than a baseball bat across the back of your head. Which actually happened to me, twice. I walked into the bathroom and that’s where I found my lovely wife. She was lying on the floor, barely breathing with scared eyes. She’s so weak that words couldn’t be released from her mouth. I quickly sat on the floor and cradled her in my arms and lap. I’ve never cried, ever, until that moment. I literally felt her life drain from her body. Her eyes remained open, fixed on my eyes.

  And even though
she was already dead, I still gave her a soft kiss on her lips and said, “I love you.”

  I didn’t want to let her go because if I did, that would mean I have accepted the fact that she is gone forever and I didn’t want that in the least. The only person I have grown to love was now gone. She’s the only reason I even know what love is and how it feels. And then, at the moment, it left me. It’s worse than a severe drug addict in drug rehab going through severe withdrawals. I was addicted to her love, and now it was gone. Hours later, I vowed to never fall in love again. My heart was now stone.

  “Another shot, Harv?” My thought process is interrupted by Sammy.

  “Why the hell not? If some is good, then more must be better, right?”

  “Cool. But remember you still owe me for three prior tabs.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Sammy. You know I’m good for it.”

  Sammy nods with a smile. “True, true, Harv.”

  Harv. That’s what Vega used to call me. I couldn’t wait for the day when I finally track that traitor down. That’s all I’ve known for so many years, tracking my once partner and best friend down. I picked up a sense I have felt plenty of times. Now, sometimes, and this had been happening more recently. The Underworld will send someone well-trained to track down a certain Harvester Agent to terminate them.

  They’re called Underworld Bounty Hunters.

  I slammed back another shot when the bar’s door swung open and a very imposing, muscular guy entered in a calculating, planned out way. I could smell his scent right away and know what’s going to transpire within a minute or so. Sammy saw the expression on my face. He came out from behind the bar, grabbed the man’s shoulders, and stopped him. I wish he hadn’t done that.

  “Hey, we’re closed, ass—”

  The man glared at Sammy in a very intimidating manner and released an animalistic growl. Sammy froze in fear and shock. “What the—”

  The stranger picked up Sammy and hurled him over the bar top and he crashed into the bar mirror and landed hard on the tile floor. The fractured glass dropped onto the unconscious Sammy. The man turned and realized I’m gone, but I saw him.

  He turned the other way and I was already jumping off the bar top. I executed a martial arts kick and sliced open his neck with my spurs. He fell backward and bounced off the bar while holding his partially opened neck. Blood squirted between his fingers and he coughed up more blood. I stepped in front of him with my sword, my friend, pointed at him. I shook my head with disappointment, and I must admit, a bit of cockiness.

  “This is the best the Underworld has? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Very disappointing.”

  The Underworld Bounty Hunter began to laugh and released his throat. I’m astonished to see his throat began to heal.

  “Are you serious?”

  The Underworld Bounty Hunter drew two guns and fired at me. I tried to avoid the onslaught of fire power, but I got hit once in my left leg as I dove for cover behind one of the pool tables. He looked at me with a smirk. “Your time has come, Harvester Agent number 2748.”

  I knew what mutation he was due to him healing so quickly. “What’s the Underworld paying you, Hybrid?”

  “Normally, it’s ten thousand per Harvester I end, but when they told me you were my bounty, well, I told them I’d do it for free,” he casually commented.

  I cleared my throat. “Hmm, should I take that as a compliment, Hybrid?”

  “I would. I knew I’d have my work cut out for me.”

  I tried to buy some more time, so I kept the Hybrid talking. “Likewise. That healing technique is rather impressive. I’ll have to make sure to cut deeper next time.”

  The Bounty Hunter stepped closer. I knew he was feeling superior and that’s a sign of weakness that I can take advantage of, hopefully.

  “There won’t be a next time, old timer.” He motioned to kill me off. I must keep him talking. This was a technique I learned from Miyamoto Musashi.

  “I must know, Hybrid. You’re a new Hybrid Class 4, right?”

  The hybrid sarcastically scoffed. “Try a Class 6.”

  I didn’t show it, but I was shocked to hear this due to the Agency’s inside info telling all of us Harvesters that the Underworld hasn’t even achieved the level five yet. I guess they have progressed further than we thought.

  “Class 6? The Underworld hasn’t achieved that level yet,” I retorted with a confident tone.

  The Hybrid smirked at me. “They have now, and I’m proof of it, Harvester.”

  “Shit.”

  You must understand that the higher Class number a Hybrid is, the worse it is for us Harvesters. I have no clue what it’s capable of doing. Out of nowhere, Sammy, not knowing what he’s getting into, sneaked up on the Hybrid Bounty Hunter and swung a baseball bat across the back of his head and bended its head inhumanly to the side quite a bit. The hit didn’t bother him at all. He casually straightened out his neck and cracked it back and forth a few times. Sammy was completely blown away when he saw this.

  But he swung away again. The Hybrid Bounty Hunter snatched the bat in midstrike and slammed it through Sammy’s stomach. He violently bounced off the bar and toppled over, dead.

  His blood spilled onto the floor. The loving couple freaked out and bolted outside with the woman screaming the whole time. The Hybrid Bounty Hunter shrugged his shoulders at me.

  “Humans? So weak.”

  I look at Sammy, lifeless.

  “Thanks. You took care of my tabs for me.”

  I quickly drew two impressive, large handguns, Desert Eagle .50 calibers. This act shocked him, as well it should.

  “What are you doing with guns? You usually never have guns. Part of my training was to research everything about you, and you never brandish guns.”

  I liked the expression on his face that I have forced upon him. I’d thrown him off his normal comfortable level. Exactly what I wanted to do. I smiled and scoffed. “I contemporized. You should always expect the unexpected, you monster.”

  I didn’t hesitate in the least, and I fired repeatedly at the Hybrid Bounty Hunter, but it was inhumanly quick and dodged every bullet, then jumped over the bar top for cover. He hopped up and returned fire with his .45 caliber Ruger, but I was already at his side with my friend, my sword, at his neck.

  “You’re good, Harvey.”

  I decided he has talked too much, so I lopped off his head, and it bounced down the bar top and plopped onto the disgusting linoleum floor. I walked over to it, stood over the head, and looked into its blinking eyes.

  “Good? The best.” I pulled out my CB. “We need a Cleanup Crew at the Fourth Avenue bar.”

  I lit up a cigarette and deeply inhaled.

  Later, back at my apartment, I sat on the toilet with my injured leg draped over the bathtub’s edge and dressed my bullet wound. Then, my slash wounds to my chest. Then, my shoulder. After tending to my wounds, I cleaned and sharpened my sword on the couch. I’d be lying if I told you I never think about retiring. But I don’t think I want that one-way ticket to the After, which is required when you do retire. I kind of like it in the Here. Besides, Harvesting is all I know, and I vowed that I would not retire until I bring in Vega or kill him if I have to. I heard a sliding noise and I already knew what it is. I peered over to the door and saw a red envelope lying on the floor.

  Hmm, a red envelope, I thought to myself. This could only mean one of two things. I walked over and picked up the envelope and ripped it open.

  One, we’re on high alert because a full-scale war with the Underwold is imminent. I pulled out the file and read it, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile. Two, new information on Vega has been found. I saw a photo of Vega with info under it.

  Why’d you resurface here of all places, Vega? Whad’ya up to?

  Later that night, I got word from headquarters that Vega brutally murdered seven Harvesters. Harvester Agent number 3369 is the sole survivor of eight Harvesters sent to track Vega when he was first spotted arriving back in town. Vega knew o
f their presence before they could even react and he took ’em out. The sole survivor lay in a hospital bed and was interviewed by two of the Agency’s representatives, who took notes on the incident and anything he could remember. I heard that his ears were missing and all his hair was burned off. He was lucky to be alive. Well, you know what I mean. Still in the Here. Vega had definitely gained strength and power since our last encounter twenty years ago. Hmm, I would have to rethink my battle plan. With that said, I flipped through the Agency’s new weapons catalog. There were some very impressive new weaponry I saw and I wanted them all. Some sort of acid fluid dripped onto my catalog, burned through it and then my table.

  I’m boggled.

  “What the—”

  I looked up to the ceiling and saw a human-looking woman mixed with a spider. This startled me and I snatched my sword. It scurried across the ceiling and vanished down my hallway with an evil laugh. I went on the defensive and remained very cautious as I maneuvered toward the hallway. She’s a Section 520 creature—dead humans experimented on and crossbred with an animal or insect.

  They’re very rare due to the Underworld’s experimentation process and success rate at making them. Definitely one of Vega’s soldiers sent to weaken me or if they get the chance kill me. I kept scanning everywhere as I moved into the hallway. I strategically moved to the end of the hallway and slowly entered the living room. Spider webs were shot at me and totally encapsulated me, and I was sent to the wall where I found myself not being able to move. The Section 520 creature crawled down the wall and to me. She placed one of her long, sharp claws against my throat.

  “You move, your head rolls,” she says with a hiss.

  I dropped my friend and it safely landed on my right foot.

  Out of the corner shadows stepped a man of Herculean size with pulsating, massive muscles, and I knew him. His name, the Messenger. The Section 520 creature forces me to look at him. I released a sigh.

  “Messenger.”

  “Harvester,” he replied. “You recognize Petra, don’t you?”