The Harvester (2 page)

B
ack at the cemetery, Vega stares me down like a strong, healthy, hungry lioness stalking an injured gazelle on the African plains of the Serengeti. I’ve seen this look numerous times ever since I was a child and it does not bother me. I know he truly feels he can take me out and I know he knows I feel I can truly take him out. He’s my number one nemesis, and if I can bring him in for atrocities he made against mankind and for breaking all the Agency’s laws, the war between the Agency and the Underworld will finally come to an end.

With skill and precision, Vega hurls his knives at me.

In a nanosecond, they are inches away from my chest. I dive out of their trajectory, spring up, and rocket toward Vega.

I draw my sword in midstride, and Vega pulls out a handgun and aims it directly at me. He fires off one round, which penetrates my left shoulder, but I am still able to thrust my sword downward and slice through Vega’s gun-wielding hand. He slumps over, clutches his wound, and groans in pain. I stay alert and I’m ready to deliver the final strike. Vega maniacally laughs. Then, I witness something I have never seen. Vega’s hand regenerates and he waves it at me with a wicked smile.

“What the—” I’m at a loss for words.

“Good as new, Harv.” He backs up a bit and produces two more throwing knives. “Now, where were we, partner?”

It was true. We were partners. We were the best. We also were best friends and partners for so many years until he grew restless working for the Agency and decided to literally jump ship and joined the other side, the Underworld. He said we were fighting for the wrong reasons and against the wrong people. Now, Vega has gained too much power in the Underworld and has become its leader. Ever since he switched sides, I guess you can say it has been a personal vendetta to capture him and bring him in. But he’s not the type to be captured, so I’ll have to kill him, I’m sure. Just the way I prefer it.

Vega spits on the ground and points at me. “How’d you find me anyway? I’ve been able to stay off the Agency’s radar for a long time. How?”

I
t was two weeks earlier, in my humble, clean apartment. Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony played as I was busy sharpening my sword. My sword is very important to me. Like the ancient samurai, you must think of your sword as an extension of oneself. Several other weapons lie on a long marble table, already sharpened. Almost all the Harvesters across the world have contemporized and changed with the times and use guns as their primary weapon. Not me. I’m an older, more traditional guy stuck in the Middle Ages. Sure, there are some cases where guns are necessary. However, the most effective way to make sure a Code Breaker 498 travels successfully to the After is by slicing the bastard’s head clean off. Now you simply can’t do that with a gun, can you? Call me old-fashioned.

After I cleaned all my weapons, I immediately jumped into my stringent exercise routine: pushups, stomach crunches, jogging on the treadmill, and lots of practicing swordplay.

Postworkout, I wrote in my journal, which I have been writing in for centuries. I guess you can say it’s sort of my memoir. Someday, it may be of use to someone. As I paused for a moment and stared out my window, a manila envelope was slid under my door. I’ve been working the Vega case for so long now that my boss makes me work side cases in order to keep me sharp and busy. With recent infiltration at the Agency by at least one Underworld spy, I prefer very little contact with anyone there until we root out any and all spies. So I receive my cases via manila envelope under my door. I haven’t survived in this line of work for as long as I have by not being cautious.

I opened the envelope and pulled out the file. It consisted of a photo of a suave-looking white man with a cocky smile and appearance. Under the photo it states,

Earth name: Billy Gunn

Code Breaker number: 8937

Offenses: Body snatching, soul scavenging, enslaving souls

Natural life ended: Five years ago

Status: Harvest or kill.

Harvest or kill? Those are my favorite type of cases.

My eyes darted to the bottom of the file, and I read the last information on Billy Gunn, and it stated that he’s a Class 4 Demon. Great. I hate demons. Anyone or anything who thinks like me and is trickier than me should never be trusted. Trust me.

Now the trick to capturing a Class 4 Demon is to track ’em to their regular hangouts and follow ’em to a safe location in order to extract the bastard out of the innocent host body without injuring or even killing them.

Sometimes, it works. Sometimes, it doesn’t. Billy Gunn’s file stated that he loves beautiful strippers, and the only strip club that offers that is on the north side of this wicked city. So I found myself at the strip club, Perfections. I wore a specially made, high-tech pair of spectacles, which can detect a Demon’s heat pattern. I casually strolled to the back of the bustling strip club. A cornucopia of smells inundated my nasal passages. All the strippers’ perfume overwhelmed me. To top it off, the smells of food, alcohol, men’s cologne, and body odor attacked my senses. Hard rock-and-roll music blared as a woman, who should no way in hell be dancing, worked the stripper pole like an Olympic gymnast trying to win the gold.

The club was rather busy, so I found myself with my head on a swivel. I observed everyone to find the demon’s heat pattern. I finally spotted it within a large African American male in his midtwenties. The demon, Billy Gunn, has picked the appropriate body to inhabit. He’s very muscular and intimidating looking. He sat in the far corner, so I nonchalantly sat a few tables away from him. I observed Billy as he snatched his pint of beer and downed it in one massive gulp. For some strange reason, demons love alcohol.

I can’t blame them. So do I. He then grabbed a shot of some sort of hard alcohol and downed that too. A pretty dancer strutted by him and he held her back and tried to make her sit on his lap. She slapped him across the face and he quickly responded by returning the slap, sending her several feet across the club and crashing into a table of patrons.

Billy erupted in laughter. He stood and headed toward the bathroom. I kept my eyes on him. He abruptly stopped, sniffed the air, and scanned the club. He stopped when he spotted me. He grew suspicious but continued toward the bathroom while staring at me with a scowl.

Shit. He’s on to me. Damn demons have German shepherd noses
, I thought to myself.
I must make a move now before he escapes
.

So I quickly sprang up. I noticed that Billy had realized who I was.

Even though the strip club was loud, my keen senses could hear Billy mutter, “A Harvester…”

I walked to Billy, who slightly touched a man on his shoulder as he walked by him. Billy simply stood in his place as I reached him with a confused expression on his face. “Where am I? How’d I get here?” he asked with a genuine tone in his voice.

I realized what Billy Gunn has done. “Shit!” I exclaimed with disappointment.

I shot a look to the exit and saw Billy in his new host body as he opened the door, stared back at me with a sinister smirk, and exited.

“Damn demon!” I shouted out loud.

I gave chase. It’s not always like this. Most of the Code Breakers simply don’t want to go to the After and want to stay in the Here. But when they see me coming to Harvest their souls, well, they don’t put up a fight or chase. They all know my golden rule: You run or try to fight and waste my time, then your head is mine.

I ran into an alley where, I’m rather sure, Billy escaped to. I know Billy will be more of a challenge to bring in to be tried by the six Heads than most Code Breakers. All was eerily quiet as I stealthily proceeded deeper into the alley, which was cluttered with trash and overflowing Dumpsters. The sounds of street traffic echoed from behind me. I was surprised when I saw glowing red eyes from the nearby shadows. I paused too long and Billy took advantage of my lapse, and with his now sharp claws, he slashed at my back and ripped into me. I was sent forward a bit, but my injury did not really faze me. Harvester Agents heal quickly and have a high threshold for pain. I spun around and saw Billy step out of the shadows in his new host body.

“Nice move, Billy. But it won’t work again,” I told him with my normal, confident tone.

Billy appeared surprised. “How do you know my name? Who are you?” he asked me with a now concerned voice.

I drew my sword out from under my trench coat. “I’m Harvester Agent number 2748, and I’m here to take you to the After for good.”

It’s obvious Billy Gunn had heard of me before because now he looked intimidated and worried. “Harvey the Harvester?” he asked.

I smiled at Billy. “The one and only.”

“I’ve heard of you,” he replied.

“I don’t doubt it. And since you’ve heard of me, then you know you should come peacefully.”

Billy began to nervously pace but tried to not show it. But I picked up on the signs.

“Why are you fighting against us? You should be on the frontline for us in this war, man,” he tried to convince me.

“It’s not my war, asshole. I’m just doing my job of keeping the balance of the good and the evil and dead and alive equal,” I told this demon who was trying to reason with me.

Billy laughed at my comment and shook his fat head. “Good and evil, huh? Whatever you gotta tell yourself to sleep better at night. All I know is when the shit hits the fan, you better hope you’re on Vega’s side.”

I couldn’t help but scowl with interest when I heard this. I haven’t been able to track Vega in twenty years, and now this. “What do you know about Vega?” I asked the demon.

Billy smirked at me as if he had one up on me, and this pissed me off to no bound.

“Enough to know that the alive in the Here will soon be the dead in the After. What’s funny is, weren’t you and Vega, like, best friends, partners for many moons? The top two Harvesters in the Agency?”

I was mad then. But I could control my emotions like Miyamoto Musashi taught me so many years ago. “No more talk, demon. Time to be harvested.”

“But the corn on the cob ain’t ready, Pa!” Billy remarked in a sarcastic redneck tone.

It’s bad enough I’m dealing with a damned demon, but one who’s sarcastic? Really? Shit. I didn’t give the demon the chance to make the first move. I charged at Billy with my sword properly positioned to kill. Suddenly, Billy closed his eyes, and a blinding, magnificent red light flashed the area and blinded me. I immediately stopped in my place and couldn’t help but to rub my burning eyes. The light vanished and I gained my vision back and realized Billy Gunn was now standing over the host body, which was lying unconscious on the unforgiving concrete. Billy looked exactly like his photo. And I must admit, he’s a physical triumph, which I don’t wish to battle face-to-face. But if I must, I definitely will. What an exciting challenge. And I do have a job to do.

He deeply breathed as the wind picked up and blew the trash into the air. Billy inhumanly and abnormally rocketed toward me without even using his legs and feet. Demons have plenty of tricks and mischievous talents. He sliced at me with his sharp claws and ripped into me. I yelled in pain and stumbled backward. Billy leapt onto my back. I felt his mouth open wide and tried to bite into my neck with his razor-sharp teeth. I lost grip of my sword, and Billy released me and kicked it away from me. I grabbed him by the head and rammed it into the wall. This seemed to not faze him in the least.

He picked me up high in the air and hurled me down the alley with ease. I hit the ground hard, and it knocked the wind out of me. But it’s worth the pain because I realizd my sword, my friend, my lifeline, was lying beside me.

“Bad mistake, Billy,” I softly said.

I snatched my sword by the hilt and jumped up to battle, but Billy had vanished.

“Hey,” Billy said out of my vision.

Suddenly, I found myself being raised into the air and put in a tight neck hold by Billy. I reacted the only way I could being put in such a dying position. I thrust my sword down and through Billy’s foot. He released me with a scream of hellish pain. Yes, demons can feel pain and you don’t need a young priest and an old priest to do it. I swung my sword at his throat as he draws a .45 Smith and Wesson, so I redirected my swing angle and sliced through his gun-wielding hand. This is one of my favorite moves. His hand dropped to the ground with the gun firing. Billy dropped to his knees, clutching at his wound as black blood pours out of it. I kicked him onto his back and put my boot on his neck with my spurs spinning an inch away from cutting him. Now I have the upperhand.

“Come on. Let me go,” he pleaded to me. “I have a lot of money.”

“Isn’t that a shocker? A demon trying to tempt.”

“I can give you all the power you want! The power of the Ancients.”

“All I want is your frickin’ head.”

I raised my sword and Billy started to chant in some sort of ancient dialect, Summerian maybe. I thrust my sword at his neck and sliced his head off. It rolled a few feet and stopped with his eyes scowling at me. I walked over to it and picked his head up by the hair. I stared into Billy’s evil, cold eyes. Job done. I’ve taken a lot of heads in my time, but you never get used to holding one in your hand. It has been proven that a decapitated head can still see for up to fifteen seconds after decapitation. It thrills me to know that the last vision an Underworlder whom I take out is seeing my sick ass.

All of a sudden, in Billy’s eyes, I saw a reflection of Billy’s hand scurrying across the ground and touch the host’s body. I immediately dropped the head as the host body sprung back to life. I sprinted over to it and ripped into its stomach with my sword. It dropped to the ground and tried to hold its intestines in, but some spilled out. Billy’s real body and head melted away with a terrible stench. I stood over Billy who died all over again. I must give him credit though.

“I need to remember that trick, Billy. Impressive.”

“Do it. Whad’ya waiting for, Harvester?”

I shrugged without a care and cut off his head again. I felt bad for the host body, but I must consider it collateral damage.

I pull out my high-powered CB radio. “We need a Cleanup Crew at the third alley on Fifth Street.”