The Harvester (14 page)

Naes passes out and trips through the hole and lands hard on the floor.

Dorian shrugs his shoulders. “Huh. That was unexpected.”

“We need to get out of here. Help me with Naes.”

My mind runs rampant with thoughts of Naes possibly being a traitor and not being one. So many reasons why if he was one or not for why he killed the Section 520 Scorpion and his return. Is it an act on the Shakespearian level or the Real McCoy? I’m bound determined to find out before it’s too late. I’ve been a Harvester too long to be tried as a fool.

I
need a drink and an unbiased opinion, so I find myself back at my favorite watering hole with Charon and can’t help but think about Sammy and how he gave his life for me. We slam back some shots of whisky. Two people shoot pool. Another plays a pinball machine that I’m rather surprised still functions. Sammy’s brother, Micah, wipes down the bar top just like his dead brother did, without care. I mean, the rag he uses is old, dirty, and smells like a used, wet mop. I still feel bad about Sammy, so I keep my mouth shut. However, Charon is a whole different story.

“Micah, really, man. You need to get yourself a new rag. That one smells like piss,” Charon tells him in a sarcastic tone and then laughs.

“Yeah, well, has anyone ever told you that you Dead Ones smell like burning flesh?”

Charon and I laugh. “That’s just our cologne. You don’t like it, sexy?” Charon retorts.

Now all of us laugh. It’s rare that I laugh, but when I do, I enjoy it. I snatch the whisky bottle beside me and pour us another shot. Charon looks at me in a way I have seen plenty of times in the past.

“Listen, I appreciate the whole boys’ night out thing, but what’s really on your mind? Is your new partner a traitor, right?”

“There’s no fooling you, Charon.”

“There’s one question you must ask yourself. What does your gut tell you?”

That is a good question. Simplistic as it may be, however, it makes sense. I’ve been so clouded with my thought process as of late. Is Naes a traitor? Which Head is the traitor? How do we find Vega’s multi-purpose Master Hole? Who are Vega’s new mad scientists creating these new Section 520 creatures? Where’s the Underworld’s headquarters? But the question at hand: What does my gut feeling tell me? I think to myself about Naes’s grandiose return on the roof and it seems a bit planned, scripted.

But Vega knows me all too well, and he knows I would think that. I find myself perplexed. Now a gut feeling in which I have always wholeheartedly trusted, I am now in a fight with.

Charon waits for an answer, and the way I answer him is by downing another shot. Charon backhands my shoulder. “What about me?”

I pour him a shot and he quickly slams it back.

He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Well?”

I run my hand through my hair and release a sigh of an emotion I’m not used to feeling: confusion.

“Harvey the Harvester! The look on your face is priceless. I’ve asked you a question that you can’t answer. I’ve known you for over seven hundred years, and I’ve never seen that look on your face. Today truly is a rare day.”

“Shut up and have another shot.”

The bar’s entrance door opens and in walks the Messenger. Charon and I instinctively grab our sword hilts. He walks our way and stops a safe distance away from us. He’s not stupid and knows we’re fast.

“I’m only here to deliver a message, Harvesters.”

I stand and draw my sword, which glistens under the track lighting. “You sure? Because I think you may still be a bit upset at me for killing your Petra in my apartment. What say you?”

“I say, yes, yes, I’m filled with vengeance for Petra. But for now, I only deliver a message.”

“Of course you are. You’ve been Vega’s lackey for centuries,” Charon chimes in.

The Messenger chuckles a bit. “Actually, no, Charon. It’s a message from him.”

He gestures to the outside and in steps me, an exact version of me, a 2.0 version if you will. I look out the corner of my eye at Charon. “That is not me.”

“No shit,” he sarcastically states.

The few patrons do a double-take at us and are completely confused and terrified. They freeze in their spots.

“Do you really think Vega’s going to get away with this, Messenger?” I ask him.

Harvey 2.0 steps ahead of the Messenger and points to the TV behind the bar playing news footage. “He already has, Harvester.”

We watch footage of me, rather, Harvey 2.0, killing civilians with the exact same sword as mine. The police rush Harvey 2.0. and he takes ’em out and vanishes down an alley. My cell rings, and I already know who it is. I answer it, yet Charon and I stay on full guard.

“Yeah, Mr. Herald?” I listen to him rant and rave. “You know that wasn’t me. I was busy trying to rescue Naes. Not to mention, I would never do that!” I angrily hang up. It rings again, and I rapidly answer it. “Listen, Gerald, I—” My eyes squint with hostility and hatred. Charon keeps tabs on the Underworlders. I hang up.

“I know who that was, Harv.”

“Yeah. Vega’s rubbing it in my face about his new creation, me.”

I whisper in Charon’s ear. “He claims this guy is just as good as me at everything.”

“Yes, I am,” Harvey 2.0 says with confidence.

Charon pats my shoulders. “Well, he definitely has your keen sense of hearing. Care to test his combat skills?”

“I think you know the answer to that question, Charon.”

Charon grins. “Rock and roll.”

I wave at Harvey 2.0 to battle me. He raises his, I mean, my sword and stealthily moves my direction.

“He even moves like you.”

“Shut up, Charon.”

“Shutting up.”

Any moment now, Rod Serling’s going to step into the scene and introduce everyone to a new episode of
Zone
. The two playing pool, the pinball player, Micah, even the Messenger sit back and watch what they probably think is some sort of Hollywood film shoot.

I stop and wait for him to make the first move, and he does the same. I should’ve known. It’s like looking into a mirror of the most bizarre. I must admit, I’ve seen and done a plethora of things in both my lives, but this is awfully strange. And I don’t like it one bit. I’m going to try to play to his emotions because I know Vega has never found out I trained under the samurai Master Miyamoto Musashi, the undisputed number one master in sword fighting.

“If you truly think you are as good as me, then make the first move and see if you can best me, Harvey 2.0”

I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot. Especially, since this version of me doesn’t know Miyamoto’s techniques like I do. Suddenly, he charges me with sword raised high. My idea worked. Now I’ll have to use another technique Miyamoto taught me: use everything in your fighting environment to your advantage. I know this dive bar’s layout so well, I don’t even have to look. I snatch the fiery Tobasco hot sauce from off the bar top beside me and hurl it at his sword. Harvey 2.0 slices at it like I predicted he would, and it smashes into pieces. The sauce splashes into his eyes. He’s temporarily blinded and moans in pain as he rubs his now burning eyes. I quickly slice my sword through his hand still holding his sword. It drops to the crusty, stained linoleum floor. I kick the sword away from him, and it slides to the pinball player’s feet, who wants nothing to do with it. Everyone now realizes this is the real deal and are frozen with fear. I turn around and see Harvey 2.0 standing on top of the bar.

He waves his regenerated hand at me with a smirk.

“Shit. Not this again.”

“That’s right, Harvester. I’m a better version of you.”

He jumps high into the air, clutches onto the ceiling, scurries across it like a spider, and perfectly drops down right in front of the terrified pinball player. He casually picks up his sword, spins around, and waves me on. I’m starting to piss myself off. I mean, well, you know.

“Your turn, Harvester,” he calls me out now.

I challenged him to make a move the first time, and he failed, but no harm was brought upon him. Now he’s challenging me. So I decide to pull a trick out of the hat: space-shifting. I’ve done this plenty of times before, but he will know this power too. It’s the illusion of me moving in slow motion when in actuality, I’m moving incredibly quick. But first, I try to distract him with conversation and movement. I pace back and forth.

“You may think you’re better than me, but at least, I’m not a freak creation and a slave to your creator. You don’t even know why you’re doing what you’re doing! You’re a—”

This is the right time. I space-shift. It works because he haphazardly swings his sword over and over at me due to my words working on his emotions. I flip in the air and over him. I swipe my sword at his neck, but he ducks. Now I know he has realized what I had done and compensated for his mistake. I never thought in a million years that one of my greatest battles would be against myself. I must end this to send a message to Vega. The message: I’m so good at what I do, I can even defeat myself. What a concept.

I spot another mistake of his. He ducked too far down to avoid my deathblow, so I bring my knee below his chin and with all my strength bring it up and connect with a teeth breaking connection. He falls backward while spitting out blood and teeth. The Messenger motions to help, but Charon does the same. and he backs down and remains neutral.

I press a button on my belt buckle, and a Black Door shoots up out of the ground in front of us. I bolt at him and tackle Harvey 2.0 into the darkness of the Black Door. We float further and further into the darkness as I have a tight hold of him. We pummel each other as I reach for my belt buckle. I press a different button and the Black Door reappears within the Agency’s Travel Center. We continue to fight, and I toss Harvey 2.0 out of the Black Door and into the Travel Center where several Harvesters have been awaiting our arrival. He realizes his situation and stops combating me. However, the Harvesters stare at us because they don’t know who’s the real me. And I don’t blame ’em.

He is an exact replica of me all the way down to my clothes and speech. We both stand at the same time and wait for judgment. Suddenly, he drops his sword, and everyone scowls with suspicion because a Harvester never relinquishes his sword.

I smile at him. “Oops. You just gave yourself away, Harvey 2.0.”

A few of the Harvesters laugh at my joke. Two of them grab him and restrain him as Mr. Herald rushes into the scene. “Arrest him!”

They usher Harvey 2.0 down a hallway and disappear. “This isn’t over, Harvey,” he shouts at me.” And for some reason I believe him.

“Report to my office, now,” Mr. Herald commanded.

Just minutes later, I sit in front of Mr. Herald who paces behind his desk. I can tell he’s confused and shocked at the same time.

“What the hell was that? He was an exact replica of you all the way down to your cheesy spurs! How—”

I know his mind is boggled and he doesn’t like it. He’s not used to that feeling. But how do you think I felt when I first saw me looking at another me?

“Vega is improving his new creations and techniques, powers even. Obviously, he’s prepping for the rise of the Necropolis. The City of the Dead will follow him into battle against us and do whatever he orders when they see his powers and what he can accomplish.”

“I don’t need a history lesson, Harv. What I need? Vega’s head!”

He slams his clenched fist on the table and punches a hole through it. I haven’t seen him this mad in quite a while. Not to mention the president is still a hostage.

“Tell me this, Harv. Why doesn’t Vega use his Master Hole to usher in the rise of the Necropolis early?”

“Good question. I only have three thoughts on that. One, he wants to weaken us as much as he can so when the rise does occur his victory will be easier. Two, he wants to follow the prophecy to a tee in order to have full power to battle us. Or three, he simply cannot do that.”

Mr. Herald sits at his now damaged desk. “That makes sense. But we can’t take the chance to find out one way or the other.”

“Gerald, listen. It doesn’t matter what we do. Prophecy is prophecy and there’s no avoiding it, just prepping for it. Period.”

He nods in agreement. “Now, presently, what do you suggest we do with your impostor?”

I wickedly smile at him. “Leave that to me, boss.”

An hour later, Dorian, Naes, and myself encircle Harvey 2.0, who sits strapped to a metal Djinn prisoner chair with a magnetic field around him to keep him from escaping. A Halo of Truth surrounds his head. He doesn’t seem intimidated in the least. Doesn’t surprise me. He has the same emotions and most of the capabilities I do. Haloes of Truths don’t work on me, so our chances are slim to nil it’ll work on him. My senses tell me that torture may be the only action that’ll work on this Underworlder. And to be honest, that’s fine with me if it means we extract info we need to topple Vega.