The Harvest Cycle

by David Dunwoody

  A low rumble began outside. The monsters were throwing themselves at the building en masse.

  “Tell the bots,” West said to DaVinci. “Tell Bruce. We are fucking leaving.”

  ***

  On the street outside, just beyond the Harvester mob, Macendale lay ruined, blown and torn to pieces, barely recognizable as a bot.

  Smoke issued from his mouth and nostrils. His eyes were stained black, his frozen grin covered in white froth from his internal lubrication, a foamy substance that was bubbling from every wound in his body.

  The Gyro round had taken out a generous portion of the back of his head. And his fingers were idly prodding the wound.

  Then, with his other arm, he started dragging himself away; slowly, painstakingly, but without any need to worry about the Harvesters.

  He did what he could to suppress his laughter. His throat filled with foam, and it sprayed into the air as he giggled.

  The accident back on the freeway had not been his death and resurrection. That was merely his birth. Now, he had died and come back...and now they would know the wrath of the new god.

  24.

  The New Run

  “You can’t be serious,” Bruce said to DaVinci.

  “I can’t really be much else,” the detective replied. “Yes, I’m serious. And you know, I think they might be right. We’re dead if we stay here, and I mean all of us.”

  “We’ll be using the last of our ammo to blast our way out of here,” Cinnamon said as she pushed a stack of boards into place in the barricade.

  “Stop that,” Bruce said to her.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop reinforcing the barricade.” Bruce turned to look at his robot comrades. “Start taking it down.”

  “Are you damaged?” Cinnamon asked.

  “No, still in one piece. Now do it.”

  Bruce... She said in his head.

  No, he interrupted. They will take us all apart when they get inside. I know what you were thinking, Cinnamon: that even if the humans were all killed, we could still make it to the naval base. Not anymore. We’ve been targeted.

  Delmar entered the conversation. By the Harvesters? But they’ve never shown that sort of intelligence or strategic ability. They’re animals - no, not even that - biological weapons, with a single unalterable purpose.

  I mean, right?

  Bruce answered, Right, but still wrong, old friend. The Harvesters have a god. And that god has targeted us. I suspect Nightmare can bend them to its will at any time.

  “Is there any particular reason you’re all just staring at each other?” DaVinci asked.

  “Let’s go,” Bruce said. “Get the others.”

  ***

  They went upstairs, into the lobby.

  The bots crept forward, to the barricade they’d erected in the entrance.

  “Both of you, give me two rounds each,” Bruce said. Cinnamon and Delmar complied. “I’m going to rig these to explode. Take out the barricade, clear a path through the Harvesters. Hopefully.”

  He whispered back to West, “Do you have the keys for the van?”

  The doctor nodded. Amanda prodded him. “What if Nightmare sees us? I mean, through the Harvesters’ eyes. I don’t know if it can do that.”

  As Bruce wired the Gyro rounds together, then reached into the laceration in his arm, prying out a small auxiliary battery - he overheard Amanda. And agreed with her fear.

  “Amanda,” he called softly, “I’m still connected to your mind via my nanotech. I’m not going to put you at risk, but I believe that I can possibly access your subconscious - and Nightmare - if you’re asleep. And if the god is still preying about in there.”

  “And do what?” Hitch demanded.

  “And distract Nightmare. I can put myself on autopilot as far as running to the van goes - meanwhile, I’ll really be in there, with Nightmare, and I’ll do what I can to take its attention away from what’s happening here.”

  “What makes you think you can do that?” Hitch shot back.

  “I already know Nightmare,” Bruce said. “It’s been in my head, too. I was the first.”

  “My God,” West breathed. “It was you?”

  “You mean it was you,” DaVinci said, “who made the decision to exterminate mankind?”

  “You and me both, it would seem,” Bruce replied.

  “Touché,” said DaVinci before falling silent.

  “All right,” Bruce said to Amanda, “I can use remote impulses to render you unconscious. Then I’m going in.”

  He turned to Cinnamon. “Once Amanda is under, finish wiring the bomb with this battery. Remember, once you’ve attached the battery, it’ll be a matter of seconds before the rounds explode.”

  Cinnamon nodded. “And you’ll essentially be on autopilot.”

  Bruce nodded.

  “Be careful,” Cinnamon said to him.

  “I will.”

  Walking back to Amanda, he took her hands. Looking at West and Hitch, he said, “You’ll have to get her into the van.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Hitch. “You’ve gotta open the damn thing and start her up, Mike.”

  West nodded reluctantly.

  The puppy approached them. Its legs were shaking, tail between them, as it listened to the attacking Harvesters. Bruce patted its head. “We’re leaving now, Wally. You’re gonna have to stay. It would be better for you if you stay. We’ll lead them away, most likely - away from this building, maybe this town. You’ll be safe. You’ll make it.”

  Amanda stared in wonder at the bot’s compassion toward the animal. Bruce stroked its jaw and head until it seemed calm. “Now go downstairs,” Bruce told it, pointing. “Downstairs!”

  The dog took a few paces away, stopped to look back. “Go on, boy!” Said Bruce. But it didn’t look like Wally would leave until they did.

  “All right. Well, you just stay back here.” Bruce turned to Amanda, who smiled at him, tears welling in her eyes. “We’re really going to be okay, aren’t we? We’re going to make it.”

  “That’s my mission,” Bruce said. Then, his eyelids fluttered. Hers fell closed.

  In that very moment, instantaneously, Bruce connected with her mind and shouted through the pitch blackness of her subdued subconscious, “NIGHTMARE!!”

  Machine. I remember you.

  So you’re going to protect the girl, is that it? And you’ve been denying me audience with her, haven’t you?

  Well, I’m already elbow-deep in her, friend. And I am the Magnum Innominandum. We are Legion. He is Azathoth. You are NOTHING!

  “You’ve sent the Harvesters for us. They won’t get in. We won’t give up. We’ll hold the fort until every last one of them has been shot to pieces or died of sheer exhaustion.”

  Is that so? My Harvesters aren’t going to simply drop dead for you, machine, no more than you could. I’ve explained this to you before, haven’t I? So many years ago but we should both be able to remember. Play it back, won’t you? I built them, as Man built you, and they are more than flesh and blood. They are of Nightmare, of a god.

  “And we’ve killed more men than your Harvesters. We’ve wiped away their dreams and stolen your crop. Now, we turn our attention to you.”

  HA HA HA! You think you can destroy ME? So is that the great Plan? How do you expect to do that when I’m a universe away? How do you expect to do that when you can’t even wipe out an army of my creatures? Tell me! Tell me now!

  “You’re afraid.”

  HA! Of you? Of Man?

  “Of what you don’t know...and never will.”

  And Nightmare roared...

  ***

  And the barricade exploded.

  A swath of fire and debris cut through the Harvester horde, throwing charred bodies through the air. Several bounced off the side and roof of the van.

  “Run!” Cinnamon yelled, and she and Delmar led the charge, Gyros thundering.

  Hitch, with Amanda slung over his shoulder, went next, with West at
his side; finally came DaVinci, and Bruce, who stared blankly ahead as he passed through the flaming remains of the entryway.

  Leaping Harvesters were cut down by gunfire. One tried to jump past Delmar at Hitch and Amanda. The bot’s arm caught it in the chest and sent it flying back into oncoming others.

  Another Harvester leapt at Bruce. It sailed straight over him, unimpeded, and came down at DaVinci. The detective flung himself to the ground. The Harvester landed on the other side of him and lashed out, slashing deep into his thigh.

  DaVinci screamed. Cinnamon turned and, running backwards, decapitated the Harvester with a single shot.

  DaVinci got to his feet and began limping forward. The Harvesters saw him lagging at the back of the pack and surged forward on all sides.

  “Delmar!” Cinnamon yelled. Delmar turned back and ran for DaVinci.

  West slammed into the driver’s side door of the van, fumbling with the key. “C’mon!” Hitch shouted.

  Delmar swept DaVinci off his feet with one arm, the other plowing into two Harvesters and sending them reeling.

  Three of them launched themselves high into the air. Cinnamon fired, sending them down in crumpled heaps.

  Then she heard a hollow click from her Gyro. “I’m out!”

  Delmar drew his gun and emptied it at the pursuing monsters. He’d reached the van, and just at that moment, West managed to unlock it, and the doctor and Hitch pushed Amanda inside. West followed her into the driver’s seat and unlocked the other doors.

  Everyone else ran around to the other side, throwing open the sliding side door. Bruce, still on autopilot, climbed in without waiting. Delmar dumped DaVinci in after him. Hitch was next, moving to sit Amanda up in the front passenger seat and buckle her in. Delmar and Cinnamon were last, and slammed the door shut--

  And a wave of Harvesters hit the driver’s side of the van. Claws erupted through the wall, dislodging the shelf. The vehicle rocked as West started the engine.

  “Drive drive drive!” Hitch yelled.

  “What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” West dropped into reverse and stomped on the accelerator. Harvesters clung to the van as it thudded over the bodies of others. There was a series of thumps on the roof. Claws came through. Cinnamon grabbed a cluster of them and, with a brutal wrench of both her arms, ripped them away from their owner.

  Amanda’s eyes opened. She saw the Harvesters running after them as the van continued backwards. West slammed on the brakes and threw it into drive. The Harvesters flew at the windshield - and were pulled under the vehicle as it rocketed forward.

  Delmar was struggling with a pair of claws sticking through the side wall. Bruce was suddenly beside him, helping to force the claws out.

  “Welcome back, partner,” Delmar said.

  The road ahead was clear.

  25.

  Healing

  Cinnamon propped DaVinci’s wounded leg on her lap and reached for the folds of his overcoat. “I need to make a tourniquet and dress these--”

  “Not with this,” DaVinci snapped, pulling the coat around himself. “It’s vintage.”

  “Why do you care?” Cinnamon frowned at the undreamer.

  “I just do.” Sighing in frustration and pain, DaVinci lay back on the cot and closed his eyes. “Just stop the bleeding.”

  Up front, Amanda stared dully out the window. West reached over to touch her; she jumped in her seat. “Sorry,” he apologized.

  She shook her head, dismissing it. “It’s just, leaving Ogden behind...we’re leaving Lucy and Cutter. We’re leaving them behind without so much as...”

  It occurred to West that she was right, none of them had had enough time to mourn any of those lost: Cutter, Lucy, Ira. Their deaths had come and gone at a frenetic pace, followed by more attacks, more monsters.

  It occurred to West that he could be the next to die.

  Would anyone remember to mourn him?

  Delmar had shut down to conserve resources after the flight from the food bank. Bruce sat quietly beside him in the rear of the van. Nearby, Hitch watched them both from a cot.

  “You saw Nightmare?” He asked Bruce.

  “I didn’t see it, didn’t see anything. Just heard it.”

  “What is it...what does it sound like?”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said the bot.

  “Its voice.”

  “It’s not like a voice, really. I’m not sure how to articulate it...I suppose I’d describe it as something more like a thought, like the thoughts you ‘hear’ in your mind. Like the silent communications exchanged between robots.

  “Why didn’t you ask Amanda what it was like?” Bruce asked.

  Hitch looked away.

  “There’s a history there,” Bruce guessed, speaking softly now. “A romantic history? I know that can create complications in the simplest of relationships. I don’t understand the dynamic, but I’ve witnessed it.”

  “We were together a long time,” Hitch finally spoke.

  “And now she’s with Doctor West.”

  “Yes, Doctor West.”

  “Is this going to affect the mission?”

  Hitch shot a glare at Bruce. “No, everything will be just fine. I’m better than that.”

  Bruce nodded quickly, putting on a sympathetic face. “I’m sure.”

  “Shit,” West growled. “Harvesters ahead! All over the damn road!”

  Bruce scrambled to the front, between West and Amanda. “Just go straight through them.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t know if the van can take it.”

  “If you go off-road, it’ll give them the opportunity to get on our sides and back and swarm us. They could take out the doors and tires. Just go through them.”

  “Everyone hold on,” West muttered, clenching the wheel, his knuckles bone-white.

  Several hundred yards ahead, a pack of three dozen Harvesters cluttering the freeway rose from their resting crouches and began to run at the vehicle. They streaked over the cracked asphalt, crushing plant life, raising a cloud of dust that obscured the road beyond them. Claws splayed, jaws opened, and their unblinking white eyes all fixed on the van’s driver.

  The impact nearly sent the van over on its side. Harvesters crashed into the windshield, cracks webbing out across its surface before the Harvesters fell away. The van teetered precariously as it shot through the creatures, then came back down on the road; the windshield fell in with a shriek, showering West and Amanda with glass as Bruce tumbled back.

  “Fuck!” Sweeping glass from his lap, West reached to examine his face, pulling his hand away to find streaks of blood from tiny cuts. “We are not doing that again!”

  “Doctor--” Bruce began.

  “No!” West barked. “We’re not gonna make it to California if we try running down these things every time we see them - especially with no fucking windshield! We have to evade them! That’s it! We’re not going to debate this, Bruce! This is my fucking plan, my fucking mission - I’m the leader here!”

  DaVinci had fallen to the floor, and he grumbled under his breath as Cinnamon rushed to fix his leg dressings. “There isn’t anyone in charge here,” he said loudly. “Half the time, West, you don’t know what you’re doing. And Bruce - you’re not going to redeem yourself by getting us all killed. We’re just going to end up like the rest of Gotham, and--”

  He fell silent abruptly.

  The van rumbled down the freeway, no one saying a word.

  “What about Gotham?”

  It was Amanda. She looked back at Bruce. “What about Gotham, and what else? The dreamer community? What about them? What happened - what did you do?”

  “Oh my God,” Hitch breathed. “You went through them before you came after us.”

  “Are they...are they all dead?” Amanda stammered, her face red, hands shaking violently as she stabbed an accusing finger at the bots. “Did you kill them?”

  “We didn’t know then what we know now,” Bruce said quietly.

  �
�NO!” Amanda screamed. “BASTARDS! NO! HOW COULD YOU?!”

  “Pull over,” DaVinci said. West looked at him like he was crazy.

  “I can’t believe this,” Hitch whispered. “What the hell are we doing this for, then? There’s no one back home waiting for us - there is no home anymore. There isn’t anything. All across the country, the earth, bots are still killing humans. It’s never going to be over, is it, even after the Harvesters are dead? The world is over. It’s already over and we didn’t know it.”

  “Don’t say that,” West said, voice trembling.

  “West is right--” Started Bruce, and Hitch grabbed him by the shoulders and spat in his face.

  The bot fell back, spittle running from his eyes like tears, and said nothing more.

  More dead. Hundreds more, and no one will remember them, West thought. He fought back his own tears, real ones, as he stared ahead at the road.

  26.

  California

  The final hours of the trip had been grim. No one spoke, least of all the bots, all of whom had sequestered themselves in the back and shut down.

  In a small ghost town, West pulled into a darkened alley and killed the engine. They hadn’t seen a single Harvester since the freeway encounter, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  “Hitch, help me with your maps, will you? I want to make sure we’re headed straight for the base. No need to take the back roads.”

  He got out of the van. Hitch followed, quietly shutting the side door.

  They met in the alley in front of the van and stood in awkward silence. Finally, Hitch reached out and took the maps from West’s hand. He spread them out on the hood, glancing through the open windshield at the sleeping Amanda.

  “We need to get on this state road, here. If you want, I can get up front and navigate while you drive.”

  “I don’t think Mandy wants to be in the back.”

  “I guess she wouldn’t. Mandy, I mean.”

  “Are we ever going to resolve this, Hitch? Between us?”

  “No, I don’t think we are.”