The Harvester

by Sean A. Murtaugh

  “Speed up, man,” Naes exclaims.

  “No backseat driving allowed in my ride.”

  But he’s right. This chase takes too long then the odds swing to Rex’s advantage. Rex is furthering the gap, so I flip up the center console, and Naes’s eyes grow wide with anxiety.

  “Ready to rock and roll?” I ask Naes.

  “Rock and roll. Just don’t kill us . . . Well, you know what I mean.”

  I let out a little laugh. I push a button on the nitrous oxide speed system, and just like that, we jump from 115 to 155. We’re going so fast that everything around us is an absolute blur. Naes and I are thrown back into our seats from the force of the speed. Within seconds, we’re beside a surprised Rex. Naes sarcastically waves at him with a smirk. Rex attempts to speed ahead of us, but at the speed we’re doing, your reaction time better be spot on. And I see a sixteen-wheeler ahead of him, and I know what’s going to happen. I slam on my brakes, and he zooms ahead with a smirk. However, he doesn’t react in time and rams into the back end of the sixteen-wheeler. The chase has definitely ended.

  Naes and I hop out of my injured ’Cuda and sprint over to the wreck. Rex’s car is demolished and rests halfway into the sixteen-wheeler. We look into the Camaro, but Rex is nowhere to be found. Naes taps me and points to a thick trail of black blood leading away from the wreck and toward the nearby woods. We follow the trail only a short ways into the woods and find Rex crawling on his belly with one of his arms chopped off from the accident. I kick him onto his back.

  “And here I thought you were one of the best Hollywood stunt drivers,” I tell him with a sarcastic tone.

  “I was and I never had to use nitrous oxide, you freak.”

  Naes kicks him across the face and shuts him up. I point at Rex. “You know what we’re here for.”

  Rex lifts his chin up without fear. “Then take it and send me to the After, Harvester.”

  I look at Naes. “Would you like to do the honors, Naes?”

  “My pleasure.”

  At this point, I don’t think I have to tell you what happens next, but it does happen, and Naes executes a clean, quick cut, and Rex’s head rolls. Exciting chase. Thrilling crash. And an end to another Underworlder. What a perfect, pleasant day. We are on to the next one on the list and this one should be interesting.

  Very late at night on the worst side of this wicked city, seven Black Doors emanate from out of the ground. Me and my six crew members each step out of one. Standing several feet away from us, shocked, are the next four on my list. Two of them are Underworld spies, and the third is some sort of Hybrid, incredibly fast, strong, and without conscience. And the fourth is a Section 408 creature, strong and big like a gorilla, but quick, agile, and nimble like a spider-monkey. The Black Doors vanish into the ground, and now it looks like a scene straight out of a Spaghetti Western.

  “Shit. It’s Harvey and his crew of hitmen,” one of the Underworld spies says.

  I step forward. “You know why we’re here. Are you going to make this hard or easy?” I stare them down without fear or intimidation.

  The Underworld spies each pull out medium-sized swords. The Hybrid and Section 408 creature each pull out a gun and a long knife.

  Naes peers over at me. “I guess it’s the hard way, Harvey.”

  Simultaneously, we draw our swords from our backsides. A few humans see what’s transpiring and scatter behind vehicles for cover. Yet their morbid curiosity makes them stay to observe. The wind starts to howl, and nearby chimes hanging by a window sound off. Without saying a word or giving the slightest of gestures, both parties charge each other. Hybrid and the 408 fire upon us. Two of my crew are hit in the chest, but their bulletproof vests protect them, and they continue with the onslaught. I stand back on purpose to take notes on my crew to review their performance. The first Harvester makes three quick slash movements down one of the spy’s front side, then through his neck, killing him instantly. The Hybrid grabs the second Harvester and breaks his back over his knee. He hurls him through the air with ease, and he crashes through a car window. Naes slices the second spy across his neck.

  He drops to his knees and desperately clutches his wound.

  Naes smirks, and now, I know he’s really enjoying his job.

  I think to myself, Take that bastard’s head.

  He does just that. I guess he heard me. The Section 408 Creature is too fast for the third Harvester because he leaps over him to his backside and snatches him by the head. He pushes in his eyes, and he screams in pain as blood squirts out of his ocular cavities. The 408 snaps his neck like a toothpick, and he drops to the street, motionless.

  He’s a goner. The fourth Harvester sprints over and takes advantage of the 408’s lack of attention. He repeatedly stabs him in the back. The 408 turns around and giggles.

  “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Harvester.”

  The Section 408 creature punches him so hard on the nose that it knocks him into a coma instantly. I love the fight and Hunt too much to not be a part of it. I rocket onto the top of a van, leap off the roof with sword in hand, and come down on top of the 408 Creature, plunging my sword into the top of its head and all the way down into its stomach. I use its body as a guard against the Hybrid’s gunfire. The others turn their attention to him, and he knows he’s outnumbered. He escapes down an alley and vanishes. I rip my sword out of the Section 408 creature’s body. The others motion to pursue the 408.

  “No. Only I can keep up with the speed of any type Hybrid. He’s mine. You guys call in the Cleanup Crew.”

  I am able to run tripled the speed of a human, and I never tire. I sprint down the alley after the Hybrid.

  Due to my extra keen sense of smell, I find myself on the top level of a six-level parking garage. I know the Hybrid is up here, but I just don’t know exactly where.

  “I can’t believe Harvey himself has come all the way to San Francisco to gain his vengeance.” His voice comes out of the shadows with a cocky tone I don’t especially appreciate. I speed walk to where I think I know his voice emanated.

  “Cold. Cold. Colder,” the Hybrid jokingly says.

  I quickly move to where I think the voice came from, but he’s not there. Now I know what I’m dealing with: a Hybrid Class 4. Among his numerous skills, being able to throw his voice is one of them.

  “That’s right, Harvester. You won’t see me until I want you to see me,” he brags. However tricky he is I still must do my job, so I continue the hunt.

  The Hybrid Class 4 chuckles. “I expect no less of you to still try, Harvey. I can call you Harvey, right? I mean, I think I should have the privilege to call you Harvey, especially since I was the one who gutted your daughter.”

  That comment makes me stop in my place while seeing quick flashes of my dead daughter. This is not the time to grow emotional.

  “I got your attention now, didn’t I?” the bastard says to me from within the shadows.

  “I’m going to rip your heart out, Hybrid.”

  The Hybrid Class 4 is so fast, I can only see a blur as it rockets by me and slices my arm with its knife. He vanishes again. My head is on a swivel. I spot it standing on top of a truck with a cocky smile.

  “I know, I know. I’m fast, aren’t I?”

  The Hybrid Class 4 does it again to me, and I can’t believe he’s so fast. I watched him the whole time and I still couldn’t react fast enough. Now both my arms spill blood. My keen sense of hearing allows me to hear it leaping through the air at me from my backside. Here’s my chance. I turn 180 degrees while swinging my sword. I miss it. That’s rare, but it does happen, even to me. The Hybrid Class 4 perfectly lands on its feet and spins around now with a sword in hand. If I defeated a Hybrid Class 6, and he’s only a Class 4, I should be able to have the same outcome. However, each Hybrid Class has their own abilities, powers, if you will. So . . .

  “I must confess. I’m awfully honored to battle you, the great Harvester Agent number 2748. I’d ask for an au
tograph for my kid, but I know your answer.”

  “I’m flattered. Now I’m going to take your black heart.”

  “Come and get it, Harv.”

  He waves me on to engage him. I must admit, I admire its confidence. The other Harvesters run into the fray, and I wave them to stop.

  “No. He’s mine.”

  They back up and get out of the way but stand guard. The Hybrid Class 4 and I engage in an epic sword battle.

  Every move I do, he defends. Every move he attempts, I defend against. It seems as though all we’re doing is wasting time or having some sort of deadly workout.

  The Hybrid Class 4 stops and stares me down. “Looks like you met your match, Harv. What’s wrong? Am I too much for you?”

  It overthrusts with its sword, and I will take advantage of this mistake. I swiftly raise my foot and slice off one of its ears with my spurs.

  “Point one, Harvey.”

  My crew laughs and semicelebrate.

  “It’s just an ear. I don’t need it. Bring it on, Harvester.”

  We square off again. I must think what my ancient samurai master Miyamoto Musashi would do in a situation like the one I find myself in. He was the ultimate master in battle, putting his foes emotionally off kilter, using his environment to his advantage, figuring out his foes strengths, weaknesses, getting into his foe’s mind, etc. How do I go about conquering this formidable foe?

  Which technique of my Japanese master should I use? I can’t lose face or respect from my crew. There’s no other option other than victory. I realize I have made a classic combat blunder: underestimating my enemy. Miyamoto would be disappointed in me, something that never happened once while training under him. Why now? Has this line of work run its course for me? Have I lost that instinct every Harvester needs in order to be successful in this business?

  I’m beginning to doubt myself, and I immediately shut off that thought process. Doubt, like the Underworlders, is a horrible enemy.

  I size up my foe once again. I scan my environment for objects to use to my advantage and I make a possible fatal decision. I figure if I fail, my crew will step in and finish the job. I assess the complete situation and now know what it is I must do. So I make my move. I quickly jostle toward the Hybrid Class 4 and I catch it off guard. I swipe my sword downward with a certain action that I know will throw it off. I include a technique that will make it think I’m moving slower than I really am, and I connect with a slicing blow across its back. He moans in pain, but I feel the wound truly doesn’t hurt it. I think it’s trying to lure me into a false sense of security by acting more injured than it really is. I’m not biting! As it hunches over in pain, I pay close attention to all its movements. I walk around it to survey the situation. I decide to do another moving technique and I move around it over and over and over until I leave trails of myself to the ones with eyes on me. I can only achieve this maneuver by staying in one constant shape like a circle, square, rectangle, triangle, you see where I’m going with this. The Hybrid Class 4 doesn’t know which one of me to attack. I swing my sword through his stomach and out his back. I abruptly stop and watch as he spits up black blood and grunts in pain.

  “That was fast,” it says with shock in its eyes.

  “For my daughter.” I rip my sword sideways and all the way out of its body and his torso slides away from its bottom section. Blood pours out of it. I do feel a sense of vindication, but nothing can ever replace my Anastasia. I was the one who convinced her to be a Harvester. I feel ever so guilty about her murder.

  The next day, Naes drives down the road as I stare upon a photo of me, my wife, and my daughter when she was six.

  Naes glances over at me. “You okay, Harvey?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You should feel better now that you’ve avenged your daughter’s murder.”

  “Not until I Harvest the one who put the order in on killing her.”

  “Vega.”

  “Yup. Vega. He was her godfather, for Christ’s sake.”

  “You two were awfully tight, weren’t you?”

  I let out a little laugh. “Tight? It sounds cliché, but we were like brothers. He loved me like a brother more than his own blood brother. We fought side by side in almost every human war and the first Sanguinary War.”

  “When did it all go to shit?”

  I stare out the window as my mind reminisces. “After the Vietnam War.”

  “And now?”

  “And now, I’ll do absolutely anything and everything within my power to track him down and Harvest his soul for good.”

  Obviously, Naes likes my answer because I catch him smiling.

  The morning of the trial, I’m on my couch cleaning my sword. My cell phone rings, and I notice that it’s from a blocked number. I answer it anyway.

  “Yeah?”

  I listen for a few seconds and then hang up. Hmm? And on the first day of my trial. What’s a Harvester to do? I think for a moment. Then, I stand up with sword in hand and exit my apartment.

  The phone call told me to go to this beautiful, vibrant, public rose garden atrium on the south side of town. So that’s where I’m at. I walk down the long middle path, stop, and observe my surroundings. It appears I’m the only one here. I breathe in the pleasant smell of all the blossoming roses. Then, guess who makes his presence known?

  Yup. Vega. He drags his sword in the dirt and stops about thirty feet away from me. Looks like I’ll be late for my own trial. Vega stares me down. Here we go with the Spaghetti Western shit again. Wind blows rose petals through the air, and suddenly, the wind stops. Vega scowls with suspicion because of this.

  “You set me up, Vega. You set me up to get the Agency to turn against me.”

  Vega shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, what can I say? I’m evil,” he says so casually.

  “How could you do it? How could you kill my Anastasia?”

  “To prove to you that anyone who gets in the way of my destiny will be ended. She got in my way. She got ended.”

  “The only destiny you have is meeting the cold razor-sharp steel of my sword.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.”

  I make a line in the dirt with my sword. “We end this now.”

  “I’m feeling an incredible sense of déjà vu, aren’t you?”

  “Except this time, you won’t be like a little scared child running away from the schoolyard bully and time-shifting on me.”

  I point to the sky, and he looks up and realizes there is now a powerful laser shield encapsulating the whole atrium. It’s so powerful that the use of a Hole or time-shifting is rendered useless. Naes and the two remaining Harvesters from my crew step out from behind a tall row of rose bushes.

  Vega shakes his head with an arrogant smile. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Harv.”

  “It’s your choice, Vega. Come peacefully and stand trial, or you and I tussle.”

  “Tough decision. I got to think about this. Yeah. I choose tussle.” Vega bolts my way with his sword raised in the air.

  “Me too!”

  We clash with vicious velocity and engage in a battle that some would most likely say is one of the greatest battles between the Agency and the Underworld. I best Vega, and then he bests me. This goes on and on as the battles usually happen between us. But there must be a winner. Vega chases me through the atrium, and then I make him backpedal with several jostling moves toward him that just barely miss. I finally get the upper hand when I feign moving one direction and swiftly move the other way. I uppercut Vega with my sword hilt, sending him backward several feet.

  “I can’t believe you fell for that, Vega.”

  I just now realize I have made an emotional mistake that my master Miyamoto Musashi would get very upset about. I allowed myself to grow cocky. I thrust my sword down at him, and I already know I have overdid it, and now Vega will make his move on my mistake. Vega easily dodges my move as I fall forward. My eyes dart to the corners, and I see Vega already attempting his deathblow on me. But
Naes and the others unleash their stun guns on him and drop Vega to the ground with a flurry of electricity. He’s unconscious now as I stand with my ego being put in check. I’m very upset with myself and wonder if my confidence is lowering or has my ego gotten too big. Either way, in this line of work I have chosen for myself, I need to put myself in check and rectify the problem.

  Naes taps my shoulder. “We just got word from the Agency that it’s imperative that we bring Vega in alive.”

  The others slap unbreakable handcuffs on Vega as I continue to sulk.

  “But I say we still kill him,” Naes adds.

  “I agree, but I don’t want you guys on trial like me.”

  At my trial, late like I said I’d be, the six Heads listen to a secretly recorded tape between me and Vega at the rose garden atrium. Even though this recording clears my name, I still feel a sense of defeat. A feeling I haven’t felt since the Vietnam War, which Vega and I were in the same platoon. Nobody knew that we were Dead Ones.

  The Agency felt it was crucial that Harvesters were needed in ’Nam. I agreed at first and so did Vega until we saw the atrocities befallen on the country and its people. It’s true. We weren’t meant to be there. Us, meaning American soldiers.

  Now when Vega and I served in both world wars, that was a different story. Hitler, being a firm believer in the occult, aliens, and the paranormal, let’s just say that when we revealed and proved who we really were to him in the infamous bunker, he decided that suicide was his best option. We never once took credit for that.

  The secret recorded conversation ends, and Mr. Herald stands and looks at the other Heads.

  “In light of the most recent findings, this proves that Harvester Agent number 2748 is innocent and the fact that he successfully harvested the Underworld’s boss, Vega, we, the six Heads of the Worldwide Agency, have no other choice but to drop any and all charges and or allegations on you, and we fully reinstate you to active duty immediately.”