We maneuver into the facility like well-trained Navy SEALs to the hundredth power. Naes gives me a look that I recognize and don’t like.
“Harv, I don’t like this. Such a high-level facility and no security?”
“I have the same feeling, Naes. Stay focused.”
“I’m beyond frickin’ focused, man,” he reassures me.
This kid definitely has potential to be an amazing Harvester. However, I still hold reservations about the legitimacy of him not being a traitor. How did he get away from that Section 520 Scorpion anyway? I mean, really? That thing was huge and incredibly deadly, and he’s able to rip its large stinger off and escape? I still have questions that haven’t been answered and the Agency won’t tell me the answers during his questioning. Why? Presently, I’m busy on active duty and can’t let those mysteries effect my actions, or we’re all dead. As we move deeper into the laboratory I glance at all the creatures, but I can’t make out what they are due to the murky fluid and tint to the glass. But what I can surmise is that it isn’t anything pleasant. Maybe all these creatures are Vega’s new army, just waiting for the rise of the Necropolis to join forces.
If my theory’s correct, then all six Agencies will have to rally all their forces, even step up recruitments in order to defeat such a monstrous legion of Underworlders. Harvesters have won all eight of the Sanguinary Wars. We’re undefeated. But in all realms of life, who stays undefeated? Even America didn’t win the Vietnam War, right?
We had a plethora of tanks, helicopters, jets, battleships, bombers who dropped more bombs than all wars combined, and a much larger army. And the Vietcong didn’t have any of that. And yet we still loss. My point: Never underestimate your enemy. Harvesters have been the top dog for a long time. Maybe it’s our turn to be under their thumb. I only have two words for that outcome: screw that!
I notice there’s only one door at the end of the room.
I signal to my crew to head that way. We pick up our pace and stop at the door. I place my ear closer to the door and my eyes widen when I hear activity. My crew sees my reaction and get excited for the battle. I quietly check to see if the door is locked. It is. Should’ve known, but I had to try. I nod at Dorian, and he pulls out his picklock kit and goes to work.
“Got it,” he states.
I pat his shoulder with a smile. “Thirteen seconds.
You beat your record.”
I silently grab the doorknob and look at my crew.
“Stack formation. We breach quickly, silently, stealthily, and most importantly, intelligently. On my count. One, two, three.”
I open the door just a bit and peek in. I’m happy to see Vega’s mad scientists busy at work. We can use them to our advantage, bargaining chips sort of speak. Several Underworld Guards secure the area. I quickly assess the whole situation and quietly shut the door.
Naes gives me a confused look. “I thought we were going in?”
“We are, Naes. I wanted to assess the situation first.”
“And?” Charon asks.
“The mad scientists who created all those creatures over there and more are in that room diligently creating even more and several Guards secure the area.”
“So what’s the plan?” The third Harvester asks me.
I think to myself, and it hits me. “We need some sort of diversion to lure the Guards in here, so we can get to the scientists and take ’em hostage.”
I aim my AR-15 at the test tubes. I unleash a flurry of bullets and the others join in, and we kill ’em all. The glass, fluid, and more importantly, the creatures crash to the floor. We simultaneously put our backs to the wall and wait. The guards rush in with weapons drawn. We fire upon them and drop half of ’em right away. We bolt into the scientists’ room and lock the door behind us. The three Harvesters stand guard, and the rest of us chase after the scientists who scramble for an escape with terror in their eyes. I don’t blame ’em. They’re brilliant, nerdy scientists, not fighters.
Suddenly, we’re fired upon by the five scientists.
Well, I guess some are both. Shit! The remaining guards try to break down the door. The three Harvesters shoot through it and silence ’em with large, unfriendly bullets.
“Stupid Underworlders,” one of the Harvesters says and joins us in attempting to corral the armed scientists. But first, we must stop the three firing upon us. Luckily, their aim is mediocre at best.
I need to address them. “Listen up, scientists! We don’t want any violent altercations with you. We only want to ask you some questions. Toss your weapons to us and line up please before we are forced to use our skills!”
“How do we know you won’t execute us after lining up?”
That’s a good question from the scientist. If I was in his place, I’d ask the same question. Kelly Marie waves at me then signals to allow her to assist. I give her the go-ahead nod.
“You know you’ll be safe because of this,” she tells them. She slides her assault rifle across the floor. A few of us follow suit. “Now it’s your turn,” she follows up.
A few seconds go by and no response. Then, five guns slide across the floor too. The scientists, hesitant, step out of their hiding spots and form a line. My crew approaches them, and I thought I’d lighten up the tense situation. “Kill ’em all,” The scientists are now terrified. “I’m just joking, guys.”
Kelly Marie giggles. She has the same sick sense of humor as I. One of the scientists raises his hand to ask a question I presume. Charon lets out a chuckle.
“This isn’t middle school, scientist. Just ask your question.”
He lowers his hand. “Well, we were wondering, what’s going to happen to us?”
I pace in front of them. “If you completely comply with us, then you’ll be just fine. For now, you’re going to come with us.”
“But Vega . . .” The second scientist stumbles with his scared thought process.
“Don’t worry about Vega. You’ll be safe with us,” I try to reassure them.
They don’t appear convinced, but they know they have no choice either way they look at it.
After we searched Vega’s scientific facility for him and his Master Hole and came up with nothing, we completely destroyed it and all his family-friendly creatures. We took all the scientists, blindfolded with ear covers on, to the Agency’s new headquarters. We made sure we weren’t followed and none of the scientists had tracking devices on or in them. Hence, the reason they were brought in nude. Now, presently, they sit clothed in our interrogation room.
“Harvey, in my office immediately, please,” Mr. Herald chimes in over the intercom.
I look over at Naes, Charon, Dorian, and Kelly Marie. “Don’t start without me, guys.”
I exit the interrogation room and head toward Herald’s office. What now? I think to myself. I make it to his office door and respectively knock, even though we are good friends.
“Come in, Harv.”
I open the door, and I see him on the phone.
“Close the door, huh.”
As he asks, I close the door. I’m not in the mood to sit, so I remain standing by the door.
“I understand,” he says to whoever is on the other end of the phone and then he hangs up.
“So what’s up, Gerald?”
“I got word that I’ll be receiving a crucial call any moment. I have my phone set to record with a voice recognition, and I’ll put it on speakerphone.”
“I have a feeling who it’s going to be.”
Mr. Herald sarcastically scoffs. “Duh. Why do you think you’re here? I need a witness, and I trust you the most.”
His phone rings. He motions to answer it, and I stop him. “Wait until the fourth ring. Trust me.”
The fourth ring comes, and he answers. “Mr. Herald here.”
“This is the president of the United States.” Mr. Herald and I are shocked. We thought it was going to be Vega. “I’ve been taken hostage by what appears to be a terrorist cell.”
&
nbsp; “They’re way beyond being terrorists, Mr. President,” I inform him. “They’re the Underworld.”
“Please don’t interrupt. Vega, their leader, has only given me a few seconds because he told me he knows you’re tracing this call. He wants Mr. Herald, his five scientists, and someone called Harvey to surrender, or he’ll assassinate me on a live feed for the world to see.”
“I know you’re listening, Gerald, Harvey, so listen closely.” Vega. I definitely recognize his voice. “Tomorrow, sunrise, middle of Golden Gate Bridge. Bring all who I requested.”
He hangs up on us, leaving us staring at one another.
“Don’t just stare at me, Harvey.”
“You’re staring at me too!” I retort.
“We have to think of a plan and fast. Any ideas? We can’t be held responsible for the death of the most popular president since FDR! Vega already tried to frame you for all those murders from your replica, and it caused a media and public fiasco. How do you think this is going to play out?”
He has a very serious point. There were times where I was almost lynched until the truth came out about Harvey 2.0. This plan has to be perfect, flawless, and very brilliant, in order to pull it off. Vega is no fool, and he is a very formidable foe. An important question now rattles around in my brain.
“If Vega was able to create an exact version of me, you even, then how are we going to know if it’s the real president?”
Mr. Herald can only shake his head with a long, exasperated sigh.
“And of course, he wants the exchange to happen at a well-known, crowded landmark for all to see, and it’ll be hard to have any of our forces hidden. Damn Vega!”
I nod in agreement.
“This situation wants to make me drink again,” he says.
It makes me want to drink more. I think for a moment. Then, bingo! “I know what it is we have to do in order to know for sure it’s the real president.” Now I begin to pace out of realizing such an action we must take.
“Well, spit it out, Harvey. We don’t have much time here!”
“We need a sample of his blood or a hair strand. Blood’s black, it’s not him. DNA matches with the hair strand, it’s him.”
“Exactly. The only problem is how to do it without Vega knowing, and we also only have a matter of seconds to accomplish this. Also what about you? I’m not giving you up to that bastard.”
“Thanks, Gerald, but I think the president’s more important. Djinn has created a new, untraceable tracking device that we can put in the scientists to track where Vega takes them.”
“Okay. But as far as you. I truly think Vega will exterminate you as soon as possible.”
“If I was him, I would. I’m going to visit Djinn to see what he can come up with.”
Mr. Herald’s phone beeps. He presses a button on his machine, and it goes to speakerphone. “Yeah?”
“Apparently, Vega had an internal self-destruct device inside of Harvey 2.0,” Kelly Marie reports.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, because he’s kind of, well, spread out all over the place.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Gotta hand it to Vega.”
Later, in the Chamber of Doom, which us Harvesters have dubbed Djinn’s laboratory, something similar to Bruce Wayne’s secret applied sciences level, I find myself marveled by all his creations, techie stuff, and mechanics that I pass. I can’t see Djinn yet, but as usual, I can hear him talking out loud to himself. He says it helps him work faster and better. Just as long as he keeps working at the caliber he does, I do not care whatsoever. I stroll by numerous specialized vehicles he created, weapons, and technology so high-tech and advanced, I don’t even know how to put into words what they are.
I turn by a row of tools, and there he is, the man, the genius of creations and inventions. He’s the Agency’s number one chief applied sciences officer. Djinn’s in his late fifties, with long gray streaked hair, clad in an actual ER doctor’s style attire. He’s very fidgety and profusely sweats all the time, even when he’s just talking.
He never sleeps due to his work ethics. Us Dead Ones don’t have to sleep at all, but we do tire and sleep helps to build more energy. So the rumor is that Djinn hasn’t slept in over two centuries. He’s hard to get used to, but he grows on you like some sort of fungi or when you go to your doctor to complain about herpes or crabs. Anyway, he’s busy tinkering away on something I’ve never seen.
“Djinn.”
He gets startled and drops a tool. “Harvey, Harvey, Harvey. It’s always nice to see the great Harvey. But I only see you when something’s gone drastically awry for the Agency. So?”
“Well . . .”
“That’s what I thought,” he comments with a sure tone.
“I have one of Vega’s scientists for you to talk to before our transaction with Vega tomorrow in order to learn a few of his tricks.”
This excites Djinn. “Oh, goodie, goodie, goodie! I have many questions for him.”
Four in the morning, Naes, Dorian, Charon, Mr. Herald, the five scientists, and I sit in a helicopter with the pilot and copilot as we fly over the Golden Gate Bridge. The traffic is already fairly busy as the commuters drive north into San Francisco and south into Marin County. We spot out three media vans right where Vega wants us to meet him. He’s definitely a crafty one.
Mr. Herald gathers everyone’s attention. “Everybody knows the plan. We need to be perfect with execution to be successful. Rock and roll?”
“Rock and roll!” we simultaneously shout out.
Everyone who drives by the media vans slow down and gawk to see what might be transpiring. When the shit hits the fan, and it will soon, the whole fiasco will be televised and viewed by millions—just like Vega wanted.
It’ll be the first time in the history of the battle between the Agency and Underworld that at this length and population will be covered and viewed. Since the advent of cameras, digital cameras, smartphones, and yada, yada, yada, nobody has ever captured more than a minute or so of us at work. Oh, wait. I forgot about Naes and myself and the freaky Section 520 Scorpions. Some people filmed all of that. And let me tell ya’, all major networks, late-night talk shows, CNN, MSNBC, even networks in other countries had a field day with that encounter. In less than an hour, it became the number one viewed hit on YouTube. I would’ve watched it too.
When the sun begins to rise, we have two undercover Harvesters within the San Francisco Police Department who will shutdown traffic from both sides for everyone’s safety and to not allow anyone to view what will most likely be a violent, vicious altercation. I always thought the Golden Gate Bridge was an amazing feat of human achievement, endurance, ingenuity, and absolute perseverance to accomplish what most couldn’t do in the 1930s. How tragic that blood will most likely be spilt on its vibrant color known worldwide.
Dorian pulls out Djinn’s high-tech night vision goggles and views the surrounding area for any Underworlder body heat. “I don’t see anything yet.”
I give Dorian an expression that he knows can only be construed as disappointment.
“What, Harvey?”
“Think outside the box, Dorian, when it comes to Vega. He probably has his Spies driving back and forth, most likely in a vehicle made to block out Djinn’s goggles from picking up the Underworlders’ body heat.”
“That’s why he’s the world’s number one Harvester!” Mr. Herald claims.
He slaps me a high five. Dorian returns a look that can only be read as, “Okay, you got me on that one, smart ass!”
Better to be a smart ass rather than a dumb ass, right? Exactly. Mr. Herald taps the pilot’s shoulder. “We can’t stay in the air too long. Vega will certainly spot us out. Set her down at Base 4100.”
The pilot nods and descends toward Alcatraz. Nobody knows it until now but the Agency has a small but formidable force set up in the bowels of the Rock. It’s more of an Intel department. So the next time you take a tour there, your tour guide quite pos
sibly could be an undercover Harvester Operative. But you’ll never know nor will you find out.
The pilot sets down on the backside of the Rock. We pile out and stretch our tired, aching bodies. To keep sharp, Naes and Dorian sword spar. The scientists are impressed and entertained. Charon must be bored because he skips rocks across the Pacific’s choppy, frigid water.
Mr. Herald busily views his laptop which is tapped into numerous security cameras in the area to see when Vega arrives. I decide to get in a quiet comfort zone, so I sit down and begin to meditate. I’ve perfected the art of meditation due to utilizing it for many centuries and because of all the masters who have taught me. When I’m in deep meditation, I go to a different plane of existence. It’s the only time and place I feel at total ease and secure from all. I also cleanse my spirit when I meditate.
The people who have tried meditating and say it doesn’t work for them are doing it entirely wrong. I feel rejuvenated, invigorated, and—
I’m hit on the head, and I pop out of my meditation to see a rock lying beside me. Charon laughs.
“What would ever possess you to do that?” I ask him in a pissed off tone.
He points under the Golden Gate Bridge, and I look and see a submarine just emerging out of the ocean. “We have company,” Charon says with excitement.
Vega never ceases to amaze. A submarine as his entrance vehicle? Really? He has his own White Door, which can transport him and all his crew to anywhere he wants.
So why a submarine? I think now he’s just boasting.
“I really hope that sub doesn’t have nuclear capabilities,” Mr. Herald mentions. Now he has all of us wondering that. Mr. Herald views his laptop. “He may be able to see our Harvesters positioned under the bridge. I’ll inform them.”
Mr. Herald sends them a message via his laptop. “I hope they receive my message in time, or we’re screwed,” he whispers to me.
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