The Harvester Read online

  She licked my neck with her long forked tongue. “Yummy.”

  “I recognized her stench, but not her new face. You bastards change your looks so much.”

  She tightened her grip around my throat. I guess because of my sarcastic comment. The Messenger winked at me. “It’s all about survival and expansion,” he casually stated.

  “The Underworld’s motto, right? So where’s Vega?”

  She let out a wicked laugh and the Messenger stepped closer to me. “Let’s just say, old roots still lie with the Dead.”

  This comment got my gears going. It sounded familiar to me. The Petra moved her face within an inch of mine. “It doesn’t matter, Harvester. You’re dead anyway.”

  “So Vega doesn’t want to face me, huh?”

  The Messenger lightly slapped my cheek a few times, most likely to show he has control of me. “He has a lot more bigger things on his agenda to accomplish instead of wasting energy on you.”

  “So he sends his number one and two soldiers to off me, huh?”

  He smirked at me. “That’s right.”

  Petra hissed at me. “And we caught you so easily too.”

  The Messenger laughed and she followed suit with her maniacal sounding laugh. I knew I must prolong their actions toward me, so I decided to join in as well. This makes them laugh hysterically, and now they seemed distracted.

  This was when I should act. I have quite a hard head, so I headbutt Petra on the nose and split it wide open. Black blood squirted out of it. She was dazed and in pain. I perfectly flipped my sword up off my foot, cutting through the webs and right into my hand. She leapt for the ceiling to escape, but I lopped off all her ankles. She fell to the floor and I now opened up her stomach with my sword. Her intestines spilled out as she squirmed around the floor and made hellish screams of pain. The Messenger produced two semi-automatic assault rifles from under his huge jacket and fired at me. I rocketted down the hallway as bullets whizzed by me and out of his view. I hurled a chair through the bedroom window to give them the impression I escaped in order to possibly overhear any vital information. Like a spy, I quietly peered out the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and secretly watched them. I saw the Messenger look down on Petra as her eight legs curled up like a dying spider does.

  “Shit. Vega’s going to be livid,” he softly said.

  “Kill . . . me. Kill me,” she said, choking on her own blood.

  It was obvious he didn’t want to kill her, a person he had grown quite fond of over many years. But I figured he knows he has to. There’s no mending what I’ve done to her.

  He pointed one of his guns at her. “Bye, baby.”

  He shot her several times and killed her. I hid deeper into the hallway to not be spotted and heard him make a cell phone call.

  “Vega, it’s me. We have a problem.”

  There’s a moment of silence.

  “Yes. He got away. I forgot how fast and good he is.”

  Vega must be extremely irate because I can hear him through the cell. “You forgot? You forgot? How can you forget something like that, you imbecile?” He ranted and raved incoherently because he’s so angry. Vega calmed down. “I’ll deal with you when you get back. Oh, yes.”

  Vega hung up on him. I made myself scarce and headed toward the bedroom and hopped out the broken window with sword in hand.

  An hour later, I was walking down the sidewalk on Speedway Boulevard. There’s hardly no foot and vehicle traffic. I found myself dwelling on what the Messenger said, “Old roots still lie with the dead.” Suddenly, it hit me like a shovel to the face. The Grant Cemetery. Of course. Where our partnership began.

  I motioned to run off. A Black Door emerged from the ground in front of me, and I stopped in my place. It’s a futuristic transport device we use. My boss, Mr. Herald, one of the Agency Heads, impeccably dressed and manicured, stepped out of the darkness of the black door.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Herald?”

  “We extracted new, important intel on Vega.”

  I can’t help but to let out a little chuckle. “Extracted? Don’t you mean tortured?”

  Mr. Herald released a hard scoff. “We do what we got to do. You know the drill.”

  “Yep, I do. I’m kind of busy, boss. What’s the emergency?”

  “You can’t kill Vega.”

  “What? Why? This is the first chance in twenty years to take him out for good.”

  “I know and you’ll get your chance. Just not now. I’m supposed to keep it classified, but you and I go way back, so I’ll tell you. Vega has control of his very own Hole, a Master Hole.”

  “How can that be? He couldn’t have gained the knowledge from the Ancients to do so. They wouldn’t allow someone like him to do that.”

  “We don’t know how, but he has created, engineered a Master Hole that can accomplish what our three Holes can do.”

  “I know where he is.”

  “All right, but you can’t kill him or even capture him until we find the location to that Master Hole and what he’s conspiring to do.”

  However, I thought to myself, no matter what, if I get the chance to take him out, then the ultimate evil is dead and the world is a much better place. It’s victory!

  Back in present time, at the Grant Cemetery, I continue to square off against Vega, where we began this story.

  “The Messenger led you to me, huh?” Vega asks as if he isn’t surprised.

  “Now you know how I found you, Vega.”

  “Subordinates can’t be trusted. Time to end this, Harv.”

  I nod in agreement. The wind howls through the trees and tosses branches and leaves all over the area. Vega draws two medium-sized swords, and that triggers us to dash toward each other. We exchange death swipe blows, but we each fend them off. We have similar fighting skills, and why shouldn’t we? We’ve had over six hundred years of getting to know everything about each other. However, I use a few of my teacher Miyamoto Musashi’s moves and force Vega to backpedal.

  “You always were brilliant with the sword,” Vega states with an actual sincere tone.

  “And you were always jealous. I’m curious. How did you create your very own Master Hole?”

  “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you then.”

  “How cliché. After all these years, you can’t come up with something better than that?”

  Another Miyamoto technique. I have him distracted by dialogue. So I take a chance at swiping my sword at Vega, but he’s too quick, and he takes advantage of the environment. He jumps off a tombstone and flies through the air at me. He slashes into both my arms with his weapons. I yell in pain, but I’m still alert enough to see my chance.

  I stab my sword through Vega’s stomach and it exits his back. I push him backward and ram him into a statue. Vega spits up black blood and then looks at me, shocked, with a cocky grin. I’m confused by this gesture.

  “You’re not going to regenerate this time, bastard,” I say with absolute confidence.

  “You always were quick. However, I’ve been doing something you obviously haven’t been doing.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I twist my sword and Vega moans in pain. And just like that, he stops and smirks at me.

  “Research, Harv, research.” Vega cockily winks at me and I give him a confused scowl, which I didn’t mean to do. Vega waves at me.

  “See you soon, brother.”

  Vega evanesces into thin air, much to my surprise. I quickly look all over and he’s nowhere to be found. I can’t believe it. I had him, damn it! In all my years, I have never seen anyone able to teleport like that. Maybe his new Master Hole has given him unknown powers. The rules to the game have definitely changed and it appears it has swung to the Underworld’s favor. Impressive indeed, I must admit. I pull out my smokes and lighter and light one up. I learned a very important lesson tonight: Research can prove to be incredibly valuable in a variety of ways and situations.

  Like, researching and le
arning the ancient, forgotten technique of time-shifting. I release a sigh of frustration. How the hell did Vega do that? How am I going to explain this to the Agency?

  In the wee morning hours, back at my simple apartment, I study from my many books from the Agency’s vast ancient library at my table. So for now, I research and keep training for my next encounter and case on the Underworld and especially Vega. It’s just a matter of time before he shows his face again, and when he does, he’s mine. I spot another manila envelope slide under my front door. More harvesting to be done and I can’t help but crack a smile.

  Three months, one week, and six days later, times have grown to an all-time high for deaths between the Agency and the Underworld. The Harvesters are now fully accepted by the masses and have full power to exercise our judgment and authority how we see fit. Can you imagine if they didn’t? What this world would become? It would be an absolute horror show—truly a wicked world. However, for the first time in the history of the Agency, there is a lack in Harvester Agents, and the Underworld is recruiting at an alarming rate due to Vega’s Master Hole. These times would be known as the Darkening Era.

  Early in the morning, I stand in front of the world’s six Agency Heads. Each of them represents a continent, except for Antarctic, of course. They feel the need to be higher up than everybody due to their power trips, so they sit on elevated chairs to prove their superiority. The room is dim, except on me due to a bright beam of light encompassing me. Some real Twilight Zone shit, right? It’s as if I’m about to be interrogated or something. A courtroom stenographer dictates everything.

  The first Head is Ms. Hernandez, a stern-looking woman with her long hair pulled back in a bun so tight that it appears as though her face is stretched back. She represents Mexico, Central and South America. The second Head is Mr. Chan who looks over his spectacles at me with an expression that can only be interpreted as he is judging me. He represents Asia and Japan. The third Head is Mr. Laveaux. He’s French so you obviously know what he must think of me. He represents all of Europe. The fourth is Ms. Smith. From my dealings and meetings with her, she actually is an understanding, passionate person. She represents Australia, New Zealand, and all the Guinea Islands. The fifth is Mr. Zundu. He is a tough, ragged man with war scars on his face. He was once a Harvester Agent for many years until he was promoted. He represents Africa. And last but certainly not least is Mr. Herald who you have already met. He’s my boss and a good, good friend. He represents North America.

  They all sit in their elevated chairs behind a long desk with their name tags in front of them and what continent they represent on it. Mr. Herald is obviously not pleased with the situation at hand. Ms. Hernandez repositions her microphone in front of her face.

  “Harvester Agent number 2748, you know what charges have been brought against you.”

  “You’re being accused of breaking Law 42031: Treason by aiding the Underworld by allowing Vega to escape,” Mr. Chan states with a disgusted tone in his voice.

  I must speak. “I told you, he time-shifted, but you don’t believe me because it hasn’t been achieved in centuries. Well, sad to say it, but Vega has found the way of the Ancients.”

  “In light of your many years of dedicated service for the Agency, we will allow you to remain free until your trial in two weeks. Until you’re proven innocent, your harvesting will cease,” Mr. Laveaux says in his thick French accent.

  For some reason, the French have always annoyed me.

  “Until your trial, you must remain in the city,” Ms. Smith adds on. She looks over at Mr. Herald. “Mr. Herald, since he represents you and North America, is there anything you would like to add?”

  Mr. Herald jumps up in disgust. “This is an absolute travesty and I do not condone this one bit!” He storms off.

  I can’t help but crack a little smile due to him being my friend. Mr. Zundu catches my smile but says nothing about it.

  “Okay, Harvester Agent number 2748, we will see you in two weeks at this exact time for your trial. That is all,” Mr. Zundu explains to me.

  I nod at the Heads and exit the trial room. I head down a hallway where everyone gawks at me in passing because they all know what I’m going through. I can hear murmuring about me as I pass room after room. Some believe I did it and some believe there’s no way I could. Either way, I don’t care in the least, and I show it. I walk toward the main exit. Everyone in the Agency most likely knows about my situation and the Underworld does too. The Agency doesn’t know the truth. The Underworld set me up and they have set me up damn well. I figure it’s to get me out of the way for them to accomplish some sort of diabolical Vega plan. I would’ve done the same thing if I was him. I exit the Agency with my chin up and head straight.

  In the Agency’s secret underground parking lot, I sit idly by in my tricked out ’69 Barracuda. Shit.

  Without harvesting, what do I have? What? Do I go on a vacation or something? I don’t know what a vacation is anymore. The last time I did go on a forced vacation, two days into it, I ended up harvesting four Dead Ones. It’s inbred in me to do so. I floor the gas and peel out of my parking spot with a loud squeal. I need to blow off some steam, so I decide to go to one of the Agency’s recreational facilities deep inside a mountain range.

  About an hour later, I swim lap after lap in an Olympic-sized swimming pool. I never raise my head to take a breath due to Harvesters not needing to do so. I tire of swimming, so I hop out of the pool and get into the nearby spa where three other Harvesters—Rico, Dante, and Naes—already relax. All our Harvester Agent barcodes can be seen on the back of our necks. Rico shakes his head at me as I enter the spa.

  “I’m surprised the Agency is still allowing you to use their facilities,” he remarks to me obviously.

  “Shut up, Rico,” Naes retorts.

  “Yeah. Good idea to shut up, Rico,” I back up Naes.

  “You know he isn’t guilty, Rico, Dante,” Naes continues. “He’s the epitome Harvester Agent.”

  “We’ll find out at the trial, Naes,” Dante says in a sarcastic tone.

  Rico nods in agreement. Naes continues to feel as if he has to stand up for me. Most likely due to him admiring me. To be honest, I don’t mind.

  “With Harvey’s history of being the top Harvester for many centuries and the fact all three of us have studied all his techniques in the Academy and have personally worked with him at one time or another should solidify the fact that there is no way in hell Harvey aided the Underworld. Think about the time-shift he spoke of.”

  Rico and Dante think about his comment, but they are still not convinced of my innocence.

  Dante leans forward. “I think the fact escapes you, Naes, that it was his best friend he’s accused of aiding his escape from inevitable capture at Grant Cemetery.”

  “He’s not my friend, Dante, you asshole.”

  “Well, he was. You guys came up through the ranks together,” Rico chimes in.

  I feel the need to stand up for myself. “Correct me if I’m wrong here, guys. But you two were friends with him too. Right, Harvesters?”

  A few Harvesters walk by the spa and stare me down and I immediately pick up on the discrimination. I can only angrily laugh and try to not let it get to me. I rise out of the hot water.

  “All I’ve done for the Agency, the overall centuries’ old fight, and nobody can give me the slightest benefit of doubt?”

  “That’s not how it works, Harvey. You know that,” Dante tells me.

  I make a sarcastic facial expression. “Wow. That’s very insightful. Thanks.”

  “For the team, not the one,” Rico chimes in.

  “That’s just it, Rico. Without my particular skill sets, there is no team. Think about it.” I exit the spa.

  “He has a point, guys.” Naes feels the need to defend me. I don’t mind. I glance back and see Naes following me to the locker room. He catches up and pats my shoulder.

  “I just wanted you to know, their views definitely are no
t mine. I know you’re innocent, man”

  I walk to my locker, open it up, and grab my clothes. “Thanks, Naes. I know I can always count on you. So what’s up?” I get dressed as Naes paces. Something is obviously on his mind.

  “I know how you feel about having a partner, especially with what happened between you and Vega. But after all this trial bullshit, I’d like to put in for a transfer and team up with you. It’s a win-win. I gain a lot of experience from the best of the best and you know I’ll always have your back.”

  “Oh, uh . . . I don’t know, Naes.”

  Naes stops in his place. “I’d like you to personally take me under your wing and train me better than the Agency ever could. Show me how you’ve survived as a Harvester for as long as you have and have been number one for most harvested souls for many, many decades.”

  I can’t help but show that I enjoy his comments as a younger fellow Harvester who looks up to me as a mentor, and he admires me. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? I place my hand on his shoulder.

  “All right, Harvester Agent number 6107. Let’s see what happens at the trial, and if all goes well and Mr. Herald agrees with your transfer, then I’ll take you on as my partner in training. My way’s the only way. Agreed?”

  Naes is so excited, he can’t keep still. “Yes! Thanks, Harvey.” He extends his hand and vigorously shakes my hand. “I won’t let you down.”

  “You better not.”

  His handshake slows down to a stop as I evilly smirk at him and release a little fake chuckle.

  The next day, as part of Naes’s training, we watch a Harvester Hunt taking place via the Harvesters’ head cams that we always wear for training purposes. The location is disclosed due to too many Underworlder Hackers, and we can’t give away their location. We watch them on my wall of forty screens. The Harvesters wear ski masks to hide their identities and voice modulators to disguise their voices.

  I peer over at Naes. His eyes are wide open with eager anticipation and glued on the Harvesters.