The Harvester

by Sean A. Murtaugh

  “You going to tell me why we’re here, Harv?”

  I’m into my observation zone and don’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Listen. It’s simple, Naes. Vega doesn’t know that I know that bar across the street is a number one Underworld safe house for Vega.”

  “So we’re waiting for Vega to show?”

  “Him or any of his Underworld cronies.”

  Right after I say that, a limousine pulls up and parks in front of the bar. This might be what I’ve been waiting for.

  Four big, muscular men, and one tall female exit the limousine, scan the area as if someone might be following them, and disappear inside the bar.

  Naes bends his neck and looks at me. “Now what?”

  “We kill ’em all, Naes.” I look at Naes with an evil smirk, and it makes him smile. “You see, Naes, we as Harvesters need to send a message to Vega.”

  “And what’s that message?”

  “Play time is over. No more Harvesting them and taking them to be tried. Now it’s execution time, period.”

  Naes and I step out of my muscle car. I head to my trunk and pop it open. Naes joins me seconds after. He’s eager to the point of worrying me a bit. Too much eagerness can get you killed, again. I pay it no mind for the time. I lift up the floor panel to my trunk to reveal a secret compartment housing a plethora of weapons.

  “Take what you want. Leave what you don’t,” I tell Naes.

  “What do you suggest?” he asks me with urgency.

  “Close quarter battles with unknown types of Underworlders at hand require swordplay and guns with vests and neck gear.”

  We both grab our swords, spiked collars, guns, and ammo. I slam the trunk shut.

  “It’s just going to be the two of us on this job, Naes. We can’t risk losing the other two Harvesters due to our lack of numbers.”

  “We can handle this one, Harvey.”

  “I like your optimism, kid. Let’s stick to the plan.” We walk abreast towards the bar’s entrance. I pause at the door and look at Naes. “We don’t know how many of ’em are truly in there. You ready for this, kid?”

  He nods at me. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I nod back at him and slowly open the door, and we strategically maneuver in just like how we are trained in the Academy. We are surprised to see the place is empty. We check everywhere, and still nobody is found.

  Naes backs up and finds his back against mine. “I don’t like this, Harvey. Do you think they’re onto us and hightailed it?”

  “Oh, they’re still here, Naes.”

  Suddenly, there’s a slight creak noise above us. We look up and see the five Underworlders hanging upside down from the rafters by their feet like vampires. They simultaneously drop down toward us. Naes pushes me out of harm’s way, but one of them cuts into his leg with its sharp, long claws. Naes stumbles backward and bounces off the jukebox, triggering it to play a Motown love song.

  The Underworlders stand side by side. They have fanged teeth, long, sharp claws, catlike eyes, and appear very strong. I’m shocked to see these Unknown creatures. The Agency has different names for different Underworlders. And when we discover some sort of new creature we name them Unknowns.

  Naes gathers himself and steps beside me. We both have our swords in hand.

  “Unknowns, huh?” I ask them.

  “That’s right. We’re Vega’s newest breed,” the first one says to me.

  “He has a message for you, Harvey,” the second Unknown says with sarcasm.

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “He says, ‘Sine die.’”

  That’s an inside message between Vega and myself that goes way back. It means without any future date being designated as for the meeting’s adjourned. The third Unknown steps forward a bit.

  “Listen, we have a long list of Harvesters to whack, so let’s get this over with. Shall we?”

  Naes lightly elbows me. “These freaks are rather cocky, aren’t they?”

  “Stay sharp,” I tell Naes.

  Naes pulls out a gun and aims it at the Unknowns. They laugh at him.

  “Your silly little guns won’t hurt us, you fool.”

  Naes still unleashes a flurry of bullets at them, and they don’t even move. They’re hit by numerous bullets but don’t bleed, and their bodies absorb the bullets.

  “Oh, shit,” Naes remarks with surprise. “They weren’t lying, Harvey.” He shrugs his shoulders at me. “But you never know until you try, right?”

  I nod at his comment. “Looks like we’re going old school.”

  We raise our swords and take combative stances. The jukebox now plays heavy metal music. Everyone sizes each other up and then Naes and I let out furious war cries.

  This triggers the Unknowns to charge us. I don’t move, and this makes Naes nervous. I can see it in his eyes.

  “Wait. Wait. Wait.” I stay still until they are about a foot away from us. “Now!”

  I pull out a new, circular device created by the Agency’s gadget guru, Djinn. I aim it at them, press a button on it, and a severely blinding white light shoots out of it and engulfs them. Nothing can be seen in the area, but we can hear them screaming in pain and anguish. I turn the weapon device off to reveal the Unknowns writhing and squirming on the floor. Their eyes have been burnt out of their skulls and black blood oozes from their ocular cavities.

  I wink at Naes. “And you thought this device wouldn’t work.”

  “I love Djinn. I’m glad you brought it, partner. I was worried since it had never been tested in the field.”

  “We just tested it.”

  I stroll over to the Unknowns’ obvious leader and ram my sword through its stomach and into the floor. He bellows in pain. I glance over at Naes. “Just in case he tries to move. Take care of the others. All we need is the leader.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Naes limps over to the other Unknowns who are now trying to scurry away to safety.

  “Nothing personal, guys,” he tells them and then promptly lops of their heads one by one with ease. I focus my attention on the leader.

  “You might as well kill me, Harvester, because I’ll never talk.”

  “Oh, I think you will,” I say with confidence.

  I pull out a Halo of Truth, a device that can read most people’s minds. It’s circular and has a slight green glow, and it has a low humming sound.

  “This little contraption will talk for you. Oh, wait. I forgot. You can’t see.”

  Naes erupts with laughter. I place the Halo of Truth on the leader’s head as if it was a crown of some sort.

  “Now this may hurt . . . a lot.”

  I power up the Halo of Truth and the Unknown leader immediately screams in pain. His ocular cavities profusely bleed. I enjoy what I witness.

  Later, Naes and I head toward my favorite pool hall, Pockets.

  “Pockets, huh? I never figured you as a pool player.”

  “We’re making a quick pit stop. I have to talk to someone to see if I can recruit him to aid us.”

  “Who?”

  “Charon Espy.”

  Naes stops in his place. “Charon Espy? The Charon Espy?”

  “Do you know of any others?”

  “Isn’t he marked, never allowed to Harvest again, banned from the Agency?”

  “Yep. But he got a bad wrap.”

  Naes is surprised to hear me say that. “Bad wrap?”

  We continue to the entrance, and I place a hand on Naes’s shoulder. “Hey, at this point in the game of us versus the Underworld, if you want to play by the rules, then I don’t need ya’. I mean, if you want to punish a guy for liking his job too much, well, whatever.” I enter the pool hall.

  “He was dubbed a killer, not a Harvester, because he never brought one single Underworlder in alive to be taken to be put on trial and sent to the After.”

  I stick my head out the door. “What can I say? He has a thing against Underworlders.” I disa
ppear back inside and Naes follows. Inside the pool hall, at the bar area, I look around for Charon Espy.

  The place is rather busy will pool players, dart throwers, and drinkers. I spot Charon playing pool by himself. He’s an older, distinguished guy, late forties, wise, and very tough and stubborn.

  “There he is. Now, Naes, wait here. I don’t know how he’s going to react when he sees me. No matter what transpires just stay here. It may get ugly.”

  “No problem. I’ll have a beer.”

  I walk over to Charon, who has his back to me, and stop behind him within a foot.

  He sniffs the air. “Well, holy shit! Ghosts do come out of the closet and talk.” He turns around and sees me smiling at him.

  “It always was hard to sneak up on you, Charon.”

  We joyfully embrace like long lost family members and laugh out loud like a reunion of some sort. And just like that, Charon pulls away from me and lands a right hand punch across my jaw. I feel my now sore jaw with a shocked expression on my face.

  “What the hell was that for, man?” I realize Charon is a tad bit drunk. Not surprising.

  “I’m not sure as of yet because I’m rather buzzed. But I’m sure I owed you that punch for something in the past.” There’s a moment of silence, then we both erupt in laughter. “It’s good to see you, brother,” he adds on.

  “Likewise. Likewise.”

  “Let’s do some catching up.”

  An hour or so later and we’re sitting in a booth putting back drink after drink. Naes still sits at the bar and watches the USA World Cup soccer game, and they’re winning by two goals.

  “So bottom line?” he asks me.

  “Bottom line, I’m in dire need of your help.”

  “You mean, the Agency needs my help. Fuck them and fuck that. All my years of dedicated, flawless service I put in, they ostracize me like a contagious leper!”

  “Not for them. Me.” I must appear a bit emotional because Charon looks confusedly at me. “It’s personal now.”

  “Personal? Why personal?” he inquires.

  “They . . .” I lower my head and can’t help but sigh. “They killed my Anastasia.”

  I raise my head to see Charon’s face turn pale white, and he is left speechless. Tears fill his eyes, and he bites his lower lip until it bleeds a bit. He was like a second father to my daughter. Vega was her godfather, yes, but Charon was always there for her since birth. He tries to speak but can only stutter an incoherent word or two. He quickly slams back three shots of tequila and looks at me with a serious expression.

  “What’s the plan?”

  A while later, Naes and I walk toward a parking lot.

  “You hearing me? I don’t think this is a good idea. He’s a washed-up drunk. We might end up being marked like him. He’s a waste of our time.”

  I can’t take it any longer, and I erupt and snatch Naes by the collar and ram him against the brick wall beside us. I get in his face. “He may be a washed-up, marked Harvester, but I’ll never forget the fact that he saved my life and took me and Vega in like brothers. He showed us many tricks of the Harvesting trade. And I’ll forever thank him for that. I owe it to him to give him a chance. I owe it to him.” I release Naes. “Besides, he’ll prove to be more useful to us than you think.”

  Naes straightens his shirt and regains his composure. “I certainly hope so.”

  At an empty warehouse, Vega holds a meeting with hundreds of his soldiers. How do I know this, and Vega does not? We have a spy or two as well within his Underworlders and one of ’em informed us of this meeting ahead of time.

  So one of our Techs set up a few hidden cameras for the Agency. On a sophisticated monitor in my car, Naes, Charon, and myself watch the meeting.

  Vega paces back and forth on a raised platform in front of all his soldiers as if he was General Patton rallying his troops before a massive battle. Below him is a stack of packets of paper. Everyone’s eyes are glued on Vega, and they listen to every word as if he is their prophet sent to liberate the Underworld. Vega has the power of speech of a Hitler type.

  “We will not and must not bow down to the Agency and their rules, codes, and laws that they force upon everyone!”

  The Underworlders cheer and salute Vega. They’re really fired up.

  “For years, the Underworld has battled the Agency and the balance of good and supposed evil has only changed a bit because we have never had a true advantage on them. That is about to change! And if you continue to fight side by side with me, we will forever change the history book!”

  Now the crowd is even more riled up and excited. Vega leans over and picks up one of the packets of paper and vigorously shakes it in the air.

  “With years of careful planning, I have successfully retrieved from the heart of the North American Agency a complete list of information on every Harvester and Worker in the Agency and their families from around the world. Underworld Army, I give you our advantage!”

  His soldiers erupt with an even louder round of cheers. Naes and Charon glare at me.

  “I was going to tell you, but Mr. Herald wanted me to wait.”

  “Our brothers and sisters in arms and their families are in danger!” Naes exclaims.

  “I know, I know. But we will fix things. Let’s just keep watching.”

  We turn our eyes back to the monitor and listen.

  “With this list in my hand, you have all the information, you’ll need to easily track down every Agency member and be personally responsible for the rise of the Necropolis. Just like the prophecy states! Our time is now!

  The Underworlders erupt again.

  “Now, everyone, come get your list and individual objectives and begin the last war against the Agency with me and paint the Here with their spilt blood!”

  We watch everyone cheer with adrenaline pumped excitement and push toward the platform and grab a list.

  The Messenger walks to the table, grabs the stack of lists, and tosses them into the crowd. I start up my car and speed off. Naes taps me.

  “So we basically know what’s Vega’s up to, right?”

  “Well, he has a complete list, thus making everyone scatter and relocate to disclosed locations. So . . .”

  “I agree, Charon. Whatever his overall plan is, it’s going to be big and bad.”

  We continue to watch the monitor as I drive and see Vega’s army pile out of the warehouse with lists in hand.

  “How big is big, partner?” Naes asks me.

  “Total annihilation big.”

  Vega evilly smiles and chuckles as his army piles out. “The rise of the Necropolis has begun. The Underworld will soon become the Here!”

  He flips off the platform like a ninja and lands perfectly on the floor and joins the Messenger. They strut toward the exit with cocky, arrogant attitudes.

  “Here, Harvey, Harvey, Harvey. Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  Vega wickedly laughs and the Messenger does so in tow, like a good subordinate would do.

  A month goes by, Vega and his Underworld Army has murdered over a hundred Harvesters and dozens of their family members, children not excluded. He has been using his White Door to move all over the world to kill and use his Master Hole to recruit from the After.

  First, let me explain what a Hole is. There are three Holes used to travel to and fro. One is used to move souls to Heaven. The second to Hell. And the third to Purgatory, Limbo basically. We’ve come to find that Vega’s Master Hole can achieve all three. Obviously, Vega uses his to move to Hell to gather recruits to up his Underworld Army’s numbers. I’d imagine he’s friends with Satan. It would be a great collaboration for both of them. Why? Satan doesn’t mind releasing souls from Hell to Vega as long as he receives more in the long run, which he will and does.

  Scientists, many years ago, by accident, created these Holes. They had no idea or clue what to expect until the first volunteers ventured through them. Then, they came back with glorious, horrific, and average tales of
from where they were sent. That’s when the Agency stepped in and took control of ’em for the safety of humanity. One adjective for each Hole pretty much sums it up, right?

  Bottom line, Vega now has one up over us, the Agency.

  Once upon a time, Vega thought this very way, having the upper hand during warfare. Only it was a time when he was doing good for our country.

  It was a time of great stress for the United States, the world for that matter. World domination by Hitler placed Vega and I in another crucial war.

  It was World War II, and he and I were in the same platoon in the marines. Obviously, this was purposely arranged by the Agency. Nobody knew what we really were and when our fellow marines asked us why we weren’t afraid to die, only Vega and myself laughed on the inside. The true answer: the Living can’t kill Dead Ones like us. We were damn good soldiers for obvious reasons. We volunteered whenever we could for the most dangerous missions to not have the chance to get the Living dead and to make sure the missions were accomplished.

  Our platoon was pinned down in a small town outside of Paris by two highly skilled snipers. Vega and I were the first to suggest to our commanding officer that we would be the ones to sprint out and across a square to draw gunfire to figure out where the Nazis were. Nobody, for obvious reasons, disagreed with us. Number one, rightfully so, they were scared. Number two, they knew we had already proved ourselves, and so far, we had a 100 percent success rate. Of course, they were fine with our idea. The objective: Draw out the two snipers who have killed eighteen of our soldiers. Next, don’t do it with any further casualties. Vega and I, at this point, have already worked as partners for over several hundreds of years, so we practically could think each other’s thoughts without speaking.

  We thought for a while that Hitler was an Underworlder, so joining the war effort was a no-brainer.

  Someone throwing off the balance of good and evil? Vega and I thought, “Hell no! Not on our shift.” Because the Allies were so determined to defeat such a heinous, evil ruler like Hitler, nobody ever noticed that from one war to the next that Vega and I haven’t even aged. They were just happy that we were back and ready for action.