The Second Intelligent Species: The Cyclical Earth

by Dale Langlois

  I wanted to ask Beth what they talked about while I was gone, but couldn’t find the courage. So we walked silently.

  Underpasses turned out to be obstacles, because everyone took cover under them. People crashed their cars into others under the bridge, just to get away from the molten rain. They drove up and around the guardrails to get under the overpass to the point that we couldn’t get by without climbing over one or two burned vehicles. Several times we emptied the wagons to portage the dam of wrecked cars.

  Most of the fires were out, but still smoldering. We tried to stay upwind of every fire we saw. Our lungs were fried and we didn’t need any more chemicals in them than we already had. Some of the trucks made me nervous. There was no way to know what they were carrying.

  We came across an armored car. In an attempt to escape the flames the guard had opened his door, and it remained unlocked. The keys still hung on his belt, or what was left of it. “Here’s our chance, babe. All we got to do is take all the money out, hide it in the woods, and come back and get it when this whole thing is over, we’ll be set.”

  Beth’s response came quickly. “Do you really think money is going to be worth anything anymore? We’ve gone back to the barter system. The question is: will there be anybody to barter with?”

  We opted not to waste precious energy retrieving something that was now obsolete.

  The sound of water alerted us to yet another culvert. I scampered down the embankment like I had for every culvert or tunnel we’d come across.

  The water trickled out ankle deep. Tree roots and other branches blocked the entrance. The only way to see to the other side required kneeling on all fours. Some of the debris seemed loose enough to pull out. Setting it aside, I poked the torch and my head into the drainage pipe. Too small for anybody other than a small child, this one was empty too.

  I was about to back out and head up to Beth, when something came out of the pile of debris. It hissed and growled as it scampered towards me. I screamed like a schoolgirl. I jerked myself out of the culvert banging my head on the edge and cutting my forehead slightly. I continued to stumble while climbing up to the road. My feet couldn’t move fast enough, expecting to get bit from behind with every missed step.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Beth asked.

  “There’s a fucking possum in that culvert. Scared the shit out of me!” And to think I handled them for a living, or at least used to.

  From the light of the torch Beth could see blood coming down my forehead. She put her hand in my pocket and tore out the remaining material. She quickly tended to the bleeding while she laughed. A rare thing lately, so I took the chiding along with the nursing.

  Once my heart slowed to a normal pace we resumed our trek to the city. Our last torch went out. With nothing to relight it, we traveled in the dark again.

  I was hoping I would hear sirens or something the closer we got. Silence was the only sound we heard when we stopped walking to listen. Not even the hint of a breeze could be felt.

  Silence is an eerie sound. The only time I ever remember hearing silence, was ice fishing up north, and we were far from land. Even then it only lasted a short time, but it didn’t take long until I questioned my ability to hear. I’d strain to pick up the faintest sound. Then I’d find myself clapping my hands, or going, “Woo, woo, woo,” so I’d know I hadn’t gone deaf. Eventually a plane or snowmobile would break the stillness and I’d take a breath again.

  There was no talking between us. We continued on towards the city. The only sound was our shoes on the blistered blacktop. I noticed that we timed it so that we would only be making the noise of one person walking. We both knew it, but neither one of us changed a step, keeping our thoughts to ourselves. Her thoughts were surely of her children, and grandchildren. They weren’t actually my grandbabies, but they thought they were. They called me “Papa.”

  I figured with no light she couldn’t see my face, so I asked, “I noticed you praying earlier. What did you two talk about?”

  “I kept trying to make him drink, but he wouldn’t until he finished his story. Something about Sodom and Gomorrah, something about God’s covenant. It’s all mumbo jumbo to me.”

  “Wait. I saw you praying, and I heard you recite the Lord’s Prayer without missing a beat.”

  “First, I wasn’t praying. He asked me to hold my hands that way, so he could give me the cross. Second, I said a prayer familiar to all Christians to comfort my patient. I can recite the Shema in Hebrew too if you like. Making the patient comfortable at the time of death just seems the right thing to do. It’s just part of a good bedside manner.”

  “So he didn’t save you, did he?”

  “I didn’t need saving. You saved me.”

  The first day on the interstate was long and we stopped when we found a cement building at a sub station of a power terminal. The hatchet made little work of the locked door.

  We went without a fire or light that night. It was good to feel a breeze. It was still hot, like that trip we spent in Vegas in July, around one hundred to one hundred and fifteen degrees. Even though it was difficult to see, we needed a respite from the heat. Plus, I didn’t think there was much left in the dark to be afraid of.

  We lay down on the cement floor with no pillows. Neither one of us complained.

  Chapter 10

  The Tower

  We left the comfort of our dark cement vault once we woke from a much-needed rest. The difference between day and night remained indistinguishable.

  “Are you ready for breakfast?” I held up two cans of food. “Remember a day without orange juice is…”

  “Just give me the cans.” The labels were missing. What Beth thought was beets, was butter beans. The can she guessed contained green beans, held spoiled cranberry sauce, at least we suspected it to be spoiled. We were not taking any chances. There was no doctor to take care of us, no 911 to call. We couldn’t afford to get any sicker than we were. I still had diarrhea, but at least Beth was feeling better.

  Eating can upon can of cold vegetables only to fill the hole took all the pleasure out of eating. Straight butter beans are not a good way to start the day, but we packed as much into our bellies as we could before the long walk. Phony Bologna and eggs would have been appreciated for once.

  Again we were bound for Syracuse. We didn’t get a hundred yards when Beth stopped walking. “I’m getting so sick of hearing these wheels. Let’s ditch these wagons. We’ll take soda and just a few cans of food, we’ll carry it in the pack, and we can move faster. There’s bound to be places where we can get food when we get there. They’ll probably have supplies and shelters set up for the survivors. Hopefully we can get some news on what happened and find out what friggin’ time it is.”

  We brought the wagons back to the building and moved much faster without them.

  After what seemed like hours, Beth broke the silence. “We must be getting close to people soon. It’s been three lanes for some time now. We should have seen some sign of life, don’t you think? Fires, sounds or something. The whole city can’t be dead, can it?”

  She was looking in the wrong places again. She expected them to be lined up along the exit ramps. No, we would find people near the remains of super-markets, or where we could find fresh water.

  It was storming in the south, and occasionally the silhouette of a water tower could be seen in the distance when lightning flashed. The wind picked up, and ashes started to swirl about. The panorama reminded me of a scene from H.G. Well’s book, “War of the Worlds,” the area totally devastated, with the Martian machine looking over its accomplishments.

  “That’s where we can get some fresh water,” I said, but didn’t know how just yet.

  We had to leave the interstate and cross a bridge. I looked down into the water and saw about fifteen or twenty bodies surrounded by dead fish of varying sizes. The fish didn’t make it either because of all the soot and ash in the water. A thick film rested on the surface, broken only where rat
s swam through; there were hundreds of them scurrying on the bank.

  Every flash of lightning gave a different perspective.

  The bodies were bloated, but only the part sticking out of the water was burned, all black, except their spines, collarbones and skulls. Several conjoined flashes of lightning revealed the total horror. Every one of them drowned. They’d stayed under as long as they could. When they poked their heads up to breath, they were met with searing hot air and ash, the exact scenario the father and his daughters experienced. It was the same at nearly every bridge we crossed.

  The lightning made it easy to head towards the water tower. We didn’t need to stick to the streets. We could walk around the cellars and cut cross lots, dodging the remains of buildings and automobiles.

  The tower was the highest thing left standing in that area. We could see what was left of some of the taller buildings down closer to the center of the city, but the skyline was very different than I remembered it. The earthquake had leveled the tallest buildings, the fires lowered the rest.

  We only had a couple of blocks to go to get to the tower. I thought we would have spotted a fire or some torches the closer we got. We saw nothing.

  “I’m going to try and get us some clean water. You stay here and see if you can find cloth for more torches.” I had been gathering old crusty grease along the way, but the only clothing we had found was on bodies, and I couldn’t go through that again. “Make sure you stay within shouting distance. We don’t want to lose each other.”

  The storm intensified, and seeing was no longer an issue. The tower loomed on a hill, back dropped by clouds linked together by ribbons of lightning. Thunder claps never had a rest between each other.

  In the past, Beth and I would sit outside to watch a summer storm, kind of romantic. This storm radiated a more ominous emotion, eerie, like something from a Stephen King novel.

  I turned several times to make sure I could still see Beth. She was wandering near the river.

  The climb was exhausting. When I approached the base of the tower it was clear a building once stood before the fire, but the debris seemed placed along the edges revealing a path. Once I made it to the base, I could see a big pipe wrench on the piping leading from the tower.

  Somebody had taken these pipes apart to get water. “There are survivors,” I said.

  I quickly turned and ran to tell Beth the good news. “Forget the cloth,” I yelled. “People…, people have been here. Come up here, hurry up.” I doubt that she understood anything I said.

  I could see her coming up the hill. She yelled something inaudible as she ran.

  This time I was going to wait for her to get closer. I didn’t feel like repeating myself. My constant diarrhea and vomiting had weakened me, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to understand me anyways.

  “What did you say? Did you see somebody alive?” Then she said something I couldn’t understand. She kept asking questions all the way up the hill. She was really getting pissed that I wasn’t answering her back. “Will you answer me, damn it?” She finally made it to the top of the hill. She was too out of breath to ask any more questions. “What… you. What…” She grabbed all the air left in her lungs and squeezed out, “Talk to me, asshole.” She threw down some clothing she found.

  “There are people here. They got water out of the tower. Somebody’s survived. We’re looking for them. They can’t be far. They wouldn’t leave water too far behind. We’ve got to find supermarkets. That’s where we‘ll find them. Let’s move now, babe.” We would find people soon.

  “So you don’t need any of this?” She picked up a handful of clothing. A small child’s dress still dripped with water from the river.

  As for potable water, all we had to do is help ourselves. The wrench was there for our convenience. There was a bucket and everything.

  I cracked the coupling enough to let water run in the bucket. When I was sure the water was clean, I put a ladle that somebody left here for anybody to use, in the dripping water. With only the light from lightning, I looked to see if there was any dirt in the water. It was warm, and tasted funny, but Beth and I drank until we got cramps.

  Neither one of us had washed since we left the culvert. We stripped and washed off layers of soot, blood, and just plain filth. We washed without soap.

  I had watched Beth shower a million times before. This time was different. Her hair was nearly gone. Each time she ran her hands over her head large fistfuls of hair came out. I saw her burns. Each crevice appeared to have second or third degree burns. Her body still had the curves that ancient Romans found voluptuous and sexual. I can understand why they painted so many naked chubby chicks. I was never turned on by those skinny model types. I had a funny feeling that I had better learn to adapt.

  We washed our clothes and put them back on wet. We were ready to go.

  It seemed like a long walk to where the supermarkets were. It was never that long when we drove. The hills seemed a lot steeper too. I guess I never paid attention to them before.

  I had to stop a couple of times to let my stomach settle down a bit. My guts were all torn up inside.

  We came to the shopping centers. The big signs to the malls were still there. The plastic had melted and was hanging down like stalactites in a cave, leaving the skeletons of their framework exposed.

  We entered the parking lot. One by one, we passed shells of vehicles I couldn’t identify. I can only imagine the heat given off when all these cars, trucks, motorcycles were burning at the same time.

  Even though there were no fires left burning, the air had the acrid smell of burned rubber.

  In my mind’s eye, I could still see other shoppers going between parked cars and trucks, carrying packages. This landscape was eerily silent and void of life. Many of the light poles had melted from the heat of the vehicles parked next to them, and collapsed. I’m sure they were fabricated from some cheaply made aluminum alloy, not intended for strength or durability.

  Portions of the mall itself were still standing, or at least the cement block walls and some of the iron girders were still standing. We headed around the corner towards the back entrance. We weren’t looking for food, we were looking for people, and then we saw the fire. This wasn’t a fire left over from the mall fire. This was one made just recently, by people. We could see them in the distance, walking around it.

  Chapter 11

  A Cold Reception

  “Come on.” I grabbed Beth by the arm and we started to run. “Hello, hello. Over here. Hello.”

  Two men got up and ran towards us. A large black man holding a big pipe as a weapon yelled in a slow deep voice, “Get on back now.”

  We stopped in our tracks.

  Another man shrieked in a southern accent, “Git back, git away, git out of here. We don’t want you here. Git, go on, leave us alone.”

  Another man walked up behind the first two and didn’t say a word. The first two came at us in a threating manner. The third one was calmer. I could tell he was the one in charge.

  “We’re just looking for some help, some food, and water, and shelter.” I tried to reason with the third one, looking him straight in the eye.

  The lanky one said, “There ain’t nuthin’ left here, they took too much already. Now git out of here.” The pitch in his trembling voice rose at the end of his last command. It was obvious that he wasn’t anyone to be afraid of. His voice cracked as he pretended to be a bigger man than he really was.

  The little man’s tirade was interrupted by the one in charge. “Shut up, Tex, you’ve said too much already.” He walked closer to greet us. “They’re nothing to worry about.” As soon as he spoke, the other two dropped their guards and became docile.

  “My name’s Nick and this is Beth.” I didn’t think last names were important right now. “We’re from upstate. We came down along the interstate. How many of you are there?

  Without any introduction he spoke. “First things first. I run this place and I decide what q
uestions will be asked and I’ll be the one asking them. Secondly, I’m sorry but there’s not enough food for everyone so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, but before you do, we’ll give you one meal, and all the water you can carry, and then you’ll have to go. Don’t come back. Fair enough?” He came forward like this was a business deal and he was in a rush to meet a deadline.

  “Yea… ok …” I was still in shock. This was not the welcome wagon I was expecting. I expected that people would want us to join their group of survivors—strength in numbers. “We’re no threat to you. We just thought if we could find a group of people, we all would have a better chance of surviving. Beth’s a nurse and maybe she could help with…”

  “We’ve got that all solved,” he interrupted. “Look, here’s how it is. We had enough food up until two days ago. We had some stolen. We would have let you both stay then, but now there’s not enough. Giving away one meal to everyone that passes by is more than the rest of the group would like, but that’s the best we can do. You probably won’t like what we have to feed you either. They won’t let me give away any of the good food. You’re going to get the stuff nobody else wants.”

  I could sense the pressure he felt, but believed he still held the authority of the group. “Well, we’ll take whatever you offer. Thank you.”

  Beth and I walked behind the third guy as he headed back to the rest. He hadn’t even told us his name.

  I kept looking over my shoulder at the scrawny guy. I positioned Beth in front of me. I didn’t like the way he acted. I half expected to get hit in the back of the head as he followed us. He just had a weasel-looking face. I didn’t trust him.

  We walked over to the fire smoldering under a small section of roof that had survived the earthquake. Two people got up so we could sit down. All it took was a hand gesture from their leader. I felt very unwelcome and anxious. Nobody said a word until we both sat down on some cement blocks that were placed in a circle, like campfires when we used to go camping. I thought for sure that somebody would break out a guitar and start playing “Kumbaya.”