The Harvesters

It didn’t matter how the world ended. Ultimately, the world just got tired, like the rest of us. The only thing that mattered is the bronze locket wrapped around my wrist.

I avoided spending any time outside if I could help it. Decades of abuse have turned the air sour with carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and other scientific-sounding -oxides. The chemical haze burns the eyes and rots the lungs from within. Long-term exposure will even induce lethal cancer. Fortunately, however, the cancer is slow-moving.

For most, kidney failure is a greater concern. After years of breathing toxic air, drinking toxic water, and eating toxic foods, the body becomes unable to continue. First comes the fatigue and nausea. Next, vomiting and difficulty breathing. Finally, death.

I opened the heart-shaped locket and looked inside. A photo of a smiling girl with brown curls stared back at me. One of the front teeth was missing; it was a baby tooth that had recently fallen out. The large eyes radiated a joyful innocence that could melt your heart. Someday, I will see that innocence again.

Like most children, Adina lost her first kidney weeks after she started to walk. Seven years later, she was in the early stages of total renal failure.

Hans Webber was the closest thing left to a doctor. He was also Adina's only hope. His 'office' was a cluttered basement tenement. Soiled cotton and crumpled papers littered the floor. The desk was nearly invisible beneath the collection of reference books and vials of strangely colored liquids. Webber himself was stout and balding. His rounded glasses and curious eyes gave him an intellectual appearance.

"It's not possible," Webber said bluntly, "It would be a temporary fix at best. In a few years, the new kidney would also fail, and she would need another replacement. Besides, we would never find a donor. These days, donating a kidney is a death sentence."

"I will donate," I offered.

"No," Webber said, "you only have one working kidney. The surgery would kill you. If you died, who would be left to care for your daughter?”

He was right. If I died, there wouldn't be anyone to take care of Adina.

"I'm sorry," he said. A look of sympathy quickly flashed across his face. Despite his dismissal, I could see that he was genuinely sorry. He turned and began walking towards his desk before I grabbed his shoulder. The dangling locket bounced against his arm.

"Hans," my voice shook, "please, I just need more time."

He looked back at my face and studied my expression. I could tell he was searching for something. Behind the round spectacles, he was judging my character. After a moment, he seemed satisfied.

"There is one other option…" he started.

"Anything," I said.

"Have you heard of harvesters?"

Of course, I had. They were bandits and extortionists before entering the black-market organ trade. Greedy and fully amoral, they are willing to kidnap and murder to maintain a regular supply of organs. I look at the bronze locket and see Adina's goofy smile. Her eyes beaming with energy. I close the locket and wrap it around my wrist.

"Take me to them."

After placing various tools into his medicine bag, we left his basement office and entered the streets. The familiar stench burned my nostrils. After a few minutes, we were already wheezing. The sunlight seemed blinding through the haze of heat and chemicals.

Our boots disturbed the dust and chemicals. Everything was silent, except for the sounds of wind and tired panting. The road before us was nearly barren. Few plants could withstand the harsh, pestilent soil. Only the most robust plants could survive: mostly flax and brittlebush.

The few flowers will never bloom.

Someday, after Adina’s recovered, I will make her a garden. We’ll dig into the subsoil, deep under the toxins. We’ll add fertilizer and purified water to help the seeds grow. When the plants yield healthy fruit, she’ll finally have clean food and some sense of normalcy.

“The harvesters,” Hans said, interrupting my thoughts, “they are not good men.”

“I know,” I said. I pulled back my jacket to reveal the black handle resting in my holster. Upon seeing this, Webber chuckled slightly.

“Good,” he said, “Do you know how to use it?”

“I was a soldier,” I said, “before all this.”

“It’s funny,” Webber mused, “there’s no need for soldiers anymore. No countries left to defend.”

“Hmph,” I uttered in response. He was right- in the end, everybody lost.

Eventually, a decrepit silhouette emerged from the haze. It was an unnatural amalgamation of crumbling cement and twisted metal brackets. Even among the other debris and rubble, the structure was notably depressing. It seemed as though the structure had always been displeasing, even when completely new. Before we entered, I took a final glance at the locket.

“Get ready,” Webber uttered.

I didn't need his warning. As we walked up the steps, I could sense the danger. The corridors and crawl spaces were endless. The natural haze hid any potential threats. We were gazelle entering the lion’s den. We were prey.

We approached an open theatre; light trickled from the collapsed roof to a man resting on a fallen stone column. His clothes were tattered and stained. His tangled dreadlocks matched his dark skin. Flip-flops loosely dangled from his feet.

“Hem, Hello,” Webber started awkwardly, “How are you?”

The stranger seemed unfazed by our sudden entrance. Without opening his eyes, the man flicked his tongue. I was unsure if this was a response or if he was removing something stuck in his teeth.

“We need something,” Webber continued, “A new kidney, to be exact.”

At this, the man chuckled to himself. He opened his eyes and slowly stood.

“Shit, we all need a new kidney,” he said, unleashing a howling laugh.

“No, you don’t understand. we are willing to pay. We will pay you six thousand credits. No- seven thousand,” Webber said, glancing in my direction. I nodded in approval, “Seven thousand credits.”

“Seven thousand credits, ah?” the stranger said, “that’s a lot of money. I could drive down to the mall and have a shopping spree.”

He howled in laughter. His dreads bounced along his back. His eyes met mine and he suddenly became serious.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with credits? Credits have gone to shit. I couldn’t spend them if I wanted to.”

I heard footsteps behind us. Someone was lurking in the shadows. A chain rustled against the concrete floor. It was impossible to guess how many were listening.

“I have an idea,” the stranger said, “give us the bag and we will let you leave here alive.”

“We aren’t giving you the bag,” I responded.

The stranger reached into his pocket and clicked open a knife. I drew my pistol and shot. He fell as a fountain of blood spurted from his neck. I fired as another attacker leapt from the shadows. The bullet went through his chest and he fell to the ground. A third attacker retreated and ran from the building. His footsteps echoed through the hall as he left.

Soon, everything was quiet, except for the faint gurgling of their leader. Blood began to pool beyond his dreadlocks on the floor. Slowly, I strode over to him. He stared at me, his eyes burning with hate. He couldn’t speak, but his expression was enough. He coughed and spat blood down his cheek. I lifted the pistol and aimed. Past the barrel, his eyes were engulfed in fury. I pulled the trigger and his head jerked on the ground. Webber was frozen with shock.

I grabbed the knife from the ground.

“Webber,” I called, “Hans!”

“Y-yes?” Webber answered in a daze.

“Are you ready for the kidney?”

Webber snapped from his stupor. He grabbed the medical bag and ran to my aid. He pulled a marker from the bag and drew a circle on the dead man’s stomach. Webber guided my cuts as we searched for the kidney. Soon, the handle was slippery with blood.

While I hacked through the skin, I eventually realized the locket was missing from my wrist.