The Harvest Cycle

by David Dunwoody

  “I could use a cool drink,” Cutter said, smacking his lips.

  “You could use a wash, too,” Cinnamon told him.

  “Let’s see about the houses, then,” said Hitch, and they headed, together, to the first decrepit home on the left.

  The rest of the day was without event. When night fell, they returned to the cemetery, listening to the songs of the birds in the trees and the rustling of creatures in the tall grass.

  The other team brought down canteens filled with water, which was then boiled over a small fire. A sponge was passed around for the humans to use, going behind the van one at a time and rinsing the grime from their bodies.

  DaVinci excused himself and went to his cab. He took the last nodules from his jar, swallowing them reluctantly, putting the empty container back in the glove box and patting his stomach. One last high before he and the others went into seclusion to wait out the Harvest.

  “I’d like to try something with you,” Bruce said to Amanda. “You told me you’ve been able to commune with Nightmare in your sleep. I’d like to put you under and use my nanotech system to interface with your subconscious - to ‘eavesdrop’ on yourself and Nightmare, as it were. Would you be willing to try?”

  She nodded. “Is there any chance I’d be hurt?”

  “Not by the nanotech,” Bruce replied. “And I believe I can keep Nightmare from detecting my presence. In any event, even if it did discover me, I don’t believe it can hurt you either. All right?”

  She looked to West, who nodded also. “Worth a shot.”

  “I don’t know,” said Hitch.

  “It’ll be all right,” West assured him. “She’s stronger than you think.”

  “I’m not doubting her, Mike,” Hitch said angrily, “I just don’t know about all this nanotech stuff, and frankly, I don’t think we know the least bit about Nightmare and what it’s capable of.”

  “If I sense any problems, I’ll bring both myself and Amanda out of the dream,” Bruce said.

  “You’d better,” Hitch replied. Amanda gave him a smile and patted his knee.

  “Let’s do this then.” Bruce turned his wrist palm-side up and pinched his flesh. A small segment came away, revealing a cluster of tubes resembling fiber optic wires. “I’ll use these both to lull Amanda into unconsciousness and to plug into her mind. Are you ready, ma’am?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Lie back and relax,” Bruce said, and drew the tubes from his arm. “This won’t hurt.”

  Hitch sat back with a resigned sigh, crossing his arms. West leaned forward with interest.

  Amanda closed her eyes and prepared to interface, both with the bot and with Nightmare itself.

  15.

  The Court of Chaos.

  "Outside the ordered universe [is] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity-the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes."

  "The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath", H.P. Lovecraft

  Amanda entered darkness, nothingness. There were no walls; there was no floor or ceiling. No stars. No wind. No air. Nothing.

  A gray mist grew about her, starting as a point in front of her and growing to encircle her body. From it rose a ghostly shape, almost indiscernible, but she knew it was the Jabberwock.

  What do you want now?

  “Has the Harvest begun? Are you sending them for me?”

  You know I am, girl. Can’t you feel them drawing ever closer? They’re in the streets, the hills, the forests. Oh yes, they’re coming.

  “You don’t even know where I am.”

  Does it matter? And do you really think you can hide that from me, anyhow? You think I can’t pry into the most private rooms and corridors of your mind? I see all.

  “They won’t find me. I’ve lived this long, I’ll survive another Harvest.”

  You amuse me. I love this game we’re playing. Let’s see then, where you are.

  Yes...yes...

  Ah, Utah. One of my favorite haunts. The Mormons have such naughty little dreams. Hot-blooded, they are.

  “I’m not afraid of you. None of us are.”

  You have robots with you. How curious. So you’ve turned them against me. This is going to be even more fun than I’d anticipated.

  “I don’t fear you, either.” Bruce’s voice.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda exclaimed.

  Nightmare laughed. It was a terrible, off-key giggle that resonated throughout Amanda’s mind, chilling her.

  I’ve talked with you before, machine, haven’t I? You were one of the first I spoke with. No...the first.

  “I know all about you, and Azathoth, and the rest,” Bruce’s disembodied voice said. “And I know you lied to me.”

  How does it feel to have wasted fifty years hunting and killing humans? To have furthered my agenda? You foolish little sack of gears and screws, you may know the truth but you’ve helped me dupe all the rest of them. There are millions of robots combing the earth right now, slaughtering Man. Will you get through to all of them, ever?

  “In due time,” Bruce replied.

  And in the meantime, you can rest easy knowing that the hunt goes on?

  “I don’t feel guilt.”

  I don’t believe you.

  They made you too human, filled you with too many moral fallacies. You’re imperfect, just like them, and you do feel regret, machine. I can smell it on you.

  The Jabberwock tilted its head, eyes focusing on Amanda. Would you like to see my court, girl? Would you like to see the hell I call home?

  “I don’t care,” Amanda said. “You can show me all you want, I’m not afraid.”

  Then look, girl, look upon Azathoth!

  And the darkness was washed away by a blinding light, a teeming, writhing, living light that radiated outward from a churning nucleus. And within it...there was something beyond description, something Amanda’s mind couldn’t even fathom, couldn’t process. She tried to turn her head away but the Jabberwock’s claws clamped down on her skull.

  Look at it!

  She shut her eyes. The light burned through her eyelids.

  “Bruce!” She screamed.

  “I’m trying!” The bot yelled. The Jabberwock laughed again, shaking her head from side to side. The light surrounded her. It was unimaginably cold, permeating her flesh and eating into her bones. It was a cancer gnawing its way into the pit of her subconscious.

  And then she was torn away from it all, torn away from the Jabberwock and out of the dream. Her eyes, her real eyes, snapped open, and Bruce pulled her into his arms, retracting the tubes that he’d plugged into her nostrils and ears.

  “Mandy!” Hitch cried. He and West grabbed at her.

  “Wait!” Bruce yelled. He looked into her eyes. “Are you awake? Say something!”

  “I...” She stammered. “My God...I saw it all. I saw it...it’s slipping away from me, I’m forgetting it even now but I still feel so cold...oh, God...”

  “What happened? What did you see?” West cried.

  “I saw chaos,” she breathed.

  She seized West’s hands. “It knows where we are. It still doesn’t know all about the Plan, but it knows we’re in Utah. And it’s sent the Harvesters for us.”

  “It’s all right,” West said.

  “Like hell it is!” Hitch growled. He scooped Amanda up and stared into her eyes. “Are you going to be all right? Are you all there?”

  “I think so,” she said. He held her head to his chest and whispered, “Jesus.”

  “We need to keep you from going into REM sleep and dreaming,” Bruce said to Amanda. “I can monitor your sleep from now on.”

  “Is that right?” Hitch snapped. “You sure you don’t want to put her through this again? Huh? Mike, are you still not
satisfied? Want to fuck around with her head some more?”

  “Hitch-”

  “No! No more!” He clutched Amanda tighter, refusing to let her go. “You’re going to get us all killed, starting with Mandy, and I won’t have it.”

  “Let me go, Richard,” Amanda said, “it’s okay.”

  “Like hell it is.” But he relinquished his hold, and stormed away from the others, into the rows of graves.

  “Probably ought not to do any more of this dream shit,” Cutter said.

  “Thanks for your input,” West said. He reached for Amanda, but she flinched away from him.

  “Hitch is right. No more. It’s too dangerous. Nightmare can’t find out anything else.”

  “Okay, okay.” West put his hands up in surrender. “I agree, all right?”

  “Is everything okay?” Lucy asked, leaning out of the van. Everyone nodded.

  “I don’t believe you,” the girl said, and withdrew her head with a pout.

  “Children are quite perceptive, aren’t they?” Said Bruce.

  “Anyone could smell this bullshit,” Cutter said, lying down beside the fire. “I’m going to bed.”

  ***

  Carson City, Nevada. Near the California border.

  The streets were quiet. Grass had come up through the asphalt, and ivy covered the buildings. Trees butted through the concrete and formed a canopy obscuring the night sky.

  All was dark and silent, and then came the sound of footfalls, of claws whispering through grass, breathing and snapping of teeth and then the wave of Harvesters erupted from the shadows, shadows themselves, leaping through windows and tearing down doors and searching for any sign of life and sweet dream-meat.

  There were a few scattered cries as dreamers were unearthed and harvested. It was a ghost town, for the most part, and the Harvesters continued on, urged forth by their terrible masters to a place called Utah.

  ***

  In the morning, the entire group headed toward the Mormon temple. A nearby building was identified by a half-rotted sign as a “food bank”, and Bruce designated a team to accompany him inside: DaVinci, West, Amanda and Lucy, like the day before.

  Cutter stepped onto the lawn of the temple. “Look at it,” he said, whistling softly. “What do you think we’ll find?”

  “Not much,” answered Hitch. “Bruce says it was used for ceremonies: baptisms, weddings, anointings. Nothing in there of any worth to us.”

  “I still want to see,” Cutter said. He grabbed the iron-wrought fence surrounding the temple and pulled himself up.

  The crack of a rifle sent him sprawling. The others struck the dirt immediately. “Are you hit?” Cinnamon called.

  “No,” Cutter hissed. “Son of a bitch! Hitch, you wanna try saying something to these people?”

  “How about Cinnamon or Delmar? They’re bulletproof.”

  “To a point,” Delmar said, but he began crawling toward the fence. “Anyone out there? We come in peace!”

  “Go away!” Came a male voice.

  “We don’t mean any harm! We’re just looking for food and shelter. The Harvesters are coming.”

  “How do you know?” The voice shouted back.

  “We’ve got dreamers among us. We know.”

  “We’re dreamers too,” the voice replied. “But how can we trust you? One of you, come forward! Over the fence!”

  “I’ll go,” Hitch said. He approached the iron bars and stood up. “I’m coming over! I’m unarmed!”

  He scaled the fence and dropped down on the other side.

  From the bushes surrounding the temple, a bearded man carrying a rifle slowly approached. “What’s your name?”

  “Richard Haledjian. We’re from Indiana.”

  “What’re you doing out here?”

  “We’re on our way to California. We have a plan to stop the Harvesters.”

  The man trained his rifle on Hitch. “We don’t have enough food for you. I’m sorry. You need to move on.”

  “The Harvesters are on their way. They’ll be here any day now.”

  “We simply can’t take care of you. Take up shelter in one of the other buildings around here. The temple is ours.”

  “Are you Mormons?”

  “We’re Latter-Day Saints, yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Williams,” the man said.

  “There isn’t anything you can share with us? Weapons, maybe? Can you spare a few guns?”

  “No. We’re running low on supplies as it is, and if the Harvesters are coming, we need all we have.”

  “I understand,” Hitch replied. “How many of you are there?”

  “Forty,” Williams replied. He lowered his rifle. “The other man said there were dreamers ‘among you’ - some of you aren’t dreamers?”

  “We have bots with us,” Hitch said. “Before you say anything - we’ve made them understand that we have a chance against the Harvesters. They’re on our side now.”

  “How can that be?” Williams said. The rifle came back up. “How do I know you aren’t a bot?”

  “I bleed,” Hitch said.

  Williams pulled a knife from his belt and tossed it across the lawn. “Don’t try throwing it back at me or I’ll fill you with lead.”

  Hitch opened the knife, laid the blade across his arm, and shut his eyes. He quickly drew the blade through his flesh.

  Blood trickled down his arm. He held it up for Williams to see.

  “It could still be a trick,” Williams said.

  “What else can I do?” Hitch asked.

  “Just go,” Williams said. “Be on your way and don’t came back, or we’ll have to shoot you. Understand?”

  “All right.” Hitch backed toward the fence. “We’ll go. But we mean it, the Harvesters are coming. Prepare yourselves.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  Hitch climbed back over the fence. “Hell of a welcome,” Cutter said.

  “Can’t blame them for being suspicious,” Hitch replied. “I say we seal ourselves up in that food bank, unless we find a better place before nightfall.”

  “We need to bring the vehicles down here.”

  “Let’s go get ‘em now. The van at least, I guess DaVinci has the keys to his cab.”

  “West gave you a key to the van?” Cutter asked.

  Hitch nodded.

  “You two get along pretty swell for romantic rivals, you know that?”

  “Don’t start anything,” Hitch said.

  ***

  A rusty old sedan, falling apart as it rolled along, coasted down the off-ramp of an Ogden freeway exit and came to a stop.

  Macendale got out, the door falling to the ground, and surveyed the city. He could sense the others here, even if he couldn’t open communications with them.

  Kicking in the window of a hardware store, he walked the empty aisles, humming a little tune to himself. There were a few scant items left. An axe. A few buckets of paint, still sealed. Some sheet metal, like that was of any use. Macendale sat on the floor and used the blunt end of the axe head to open the paint cans.

  “What colors do we have here?...White, white and off-white. Whee. Hmm.” He began spreading paint over his face. “This’ll do better than mud. That’s the look of a proper clown. Hell, why not paint the whole body.”

  He stripped off what was left of his one-piece uniform and coated his body in white. He had no genitals, but made sure to give the area a generous application anyway.

  “House paint. Won’t hold up for very long...that’s okay. Can’t be perfect, can we.”

  He plucked the false irises from his eyes, leaving only his pupils, and flicked the lenses away. “What’ll DaVinci make of this? It’ll be like looking at a nightmare. Yes, I’m a nightmare. To hell with your gods.”

  He broke into the offices in the back of the store and ransacked them for items. Not much there. Some clothes in a closet, a jacket and slacks. He pulled them on over the still-wet paint and, placing the axe jaunti
ly on his shoulder, Gyros secured to his sides, walked out of the store.

  “Ready or not, here I come!”

  16.

  Home

  “We found some stuff in the food bank,” Bruce reported. “Some rice and grains. It was all sealed, and still seems to be good. So I suggest we fetch some more water, then pull down some doors from the nearby houses and use them to barricade ourselves inside the food bank.”

  “And we’ll be in there for the next month. Can’t wait,” Cutter sighed.

  “Would you rather be out here?” DaVinci asked.

  “All right, let’s get the cab moved over there, then get that water,” West said.

  “I just hope we don’t find any Mormons holed up in the food bank,” Hitch said.

  Bruce shook his head. “We swept the entire building.”

  DaVinci crossed the cemetery clearing and got into the taxicab. “See you down there,” he called.

  Then, a nearby tombstone exploded.

  Chemical fire and bits of flaming stone flew into the air. The robots dove to the ground, taking the humans down with them.

  Bruce rolled on his back and pulled out his Gyro. Taking cover behind the nearest tombstone, he scanned the horizon.

  “Mormons,” Hitch breathed.

  “That was Gyro fire,” Bruce said. “Synths.”

  “We’re bots!” Delmar yelled. There was no response from the trees, the graves. No movement.

  DaVinci opened the door of the cab and took cover behind it. “Throw me my gun!” He hissed at Cutter.

  “Forget it,” Cutter said. “I need it more than you do.”

  “The hell you do!”

  “Be quiet!” Cinnamon whispered.

  There was a sick, tittering laugh from the trees.

  “Macendale...?” Bruce gasped.

  A chunk of earth was torn away by Gyro fire. Bruce ducked down to avoid the chemical spray, dirt showering over him. “What are you doing, Macendale?” he shouted.

  “I’m scared!” Lucy cried. Amanda cradled the girl’s head in her arms. “It’s gonna be all right, honey. Just be quiet.”

  Bruce’s tombstone was shattered by another Gyro round. He rolled away, his back covered in flames. Smothering them with his body, Bruce got up and ran at the taxicab, throwing himself over it.